Snatch and Grab
by SweetDeamon
Summary: Teddy Lupin was snatched by Death Eaters from his cradle aged just three days old. Both Remus and Tonks believe he is dead and are utterly devastated. But what happens when Narcissa Malfoy chooses to do a single kind act for her estranged niece? AU RLNT.
1. Be Careful What You Wish For

_Note: Hello there! Welcome to a brand new shiny AU fic! Yes...I haven't finished my other fics yet...and yes, I should probably have done so before I posted this one! But the idea popped into my head and just would not go away until I wrote it down! And, typically for me, I could not resist posting it to see if anybody liked the idea! No panic, readers of Meet the Muggles! I will be updating that as soon as I can – I've even written almost half of the next chapter for you! I know I haven't updated The Dark Creature's Child for a long time either...I'm sorry about that, too! But don't worry! I never abandon my fics! I will complete them all, given time!_

_Anyway, I shall stop rambling about my other fics and we can just get on with this one! I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you in advance to anybody kind enough to review!_

**1: Be Careful What You Wish For **

As he reached to pull open the door of his car, pausing to admire his new dinner jacket yet again in the shiny black paintwork, Augustus Beddington prepared himself for the conversation that was no doubt about to follow.

"Wasn't it adorable?" his wife exclaimed for the third time since they had left the warmth of his brother's hallway some minutes earlier, and as he ducked down into the driver's seat, glad to be out of the rain that was beginning to become far more than just a light drizzle, Augustus rolled his eyes and agreed:

"Indeed it was, Eliza dear."

As Eliza Beddington carefully arranged the skirt of her dress around her lap, before reaching to pull the car door shut, she glanced sideways at her husband, eyes fluttering as she said:

"It makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" Augustus asked, staring determinedly out of the front windscreen, and Eliza paused midway through reaching for her seatbelt to shoot her husband a distinctly irritated look.

"Yes, Gus!" she informed him somewhat sulkily. "It does!"

Augustus failed to respond as he reached to turn the key in the ignition, and the car roared into life. The man let out a satisfied sigh at the sound, murmuring:

"Listen to that. It's...music!"

"You and your cars!" Eliza snorted moodily, shifting irritably in her seat. "You don't care about anything else. You don't care about me! You don't care about making me happy!"

"Oh come on, my darling!" her husband protested as they pull out of their parking space and sped off up the dimly lit road. "You're being absolutely silly!"

"I want a baby!" Eliza declared, giving her foot a furious little stamp and folding her arms firmly across her chest. "I mean it! I want one!"

"When William bought Alison one of those fancy aprons from Harrods the other month you wanted one of those, too. And then the month before, when Victoria's husband bought that puppy! I got you both, just like you wanted. You wore the apron once and then gave it away to Harriet, and you got bored of the puppy after an hour and had it sent to Battersea..."

"I WANT a baby, Gus!

"Yes, but only because William and Alison have one!" As they turned onto the next street, Augustus couldn't resist slamming his foot down onto the excellerator in frustration. "It's ridiculous, Eliza! Absolutely ridiculous!"

"You're speeding." Eliza informed him with a sniff, but he didn't take any notice of her.

"A baby! Honestly! What on earth would you want a baby for? Nasty, noisy, smelly things, babies. If we did have one I'd send it away to boarding school as soon as one would take it!"

"We could get a nanny."

"A nanny?" Augustus turned to offer Eliza a scowl. "Don't be silly!" he scoffed. "That's just another mouth to feed, a load of money down the...BLOODY HELL!"

At the sight of a dark figure seemingly darting out into the middle of the road in front of them, Augustus slammed his foot down onto the brakes, wincing in anticipation as the car screeched to a halt, mere inches from colliding with the figure.

Breathing heavily, both Augustus and Eliza stared with wide eyes out of the windscreen at the figure, who seemed to have been stunned by the near miss, shoulders hunched and head bowed against the incoming collision.

"What are they, insane?" Augustus finally exclaimed furiously, giving himself a little shake and reaching to wind down his window, ready to give the person a good piece of his mind.

But at that moment, the person suddenly decided to move, hurrying around to Eliza's side of the car and reaching to tap urgently upon the window.

"She must be lost." Eliza observed, reaching to wind down her own window, and as he leaned to squint through the darkness Augustus found that he was indeed looking at a woman.

The near-victim was a tall, thin woman with a pale, pointy face and sleek white-blonde hair. She was wearing a dark, bottle green coat and was clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest, pale eyes darting around her surroundings in a distinctly uneasy manner.

"You should be more careful!" Augustus informed her irately before either she or Eliza could say a word. "I could have knocked you down!"

"Oh do shut up, Gus dear! Eliza told him impatiently, leaning forward to peer out of the window. "Gosh!" she exclaimed, nose wrinkling at the sight of just how drenched the stranger was, water dripping from the ends of her long, pale hair. "Don't you have an umbrella? You look terribly wet!"

The stranger stooped to get a clearer look at the couple inside the car, before turning to glance nervously over her shoulder. It was at that moment that there came the sound of a muffled whimper, and, squinting at the bundle of blankets that the woman was clutching, Eliza caught sight of a tiny hand peeping out from the folds.

"Oh!" she exclaimed excitedly, clapping her hands together in delight. "Look, Gus! A baby!"

Augustus was just letting out a heavy sigh of annoyance when the woman turned her attention back to the couple and, quite abruptly, reached to push the blanket-clad child through the open car window.

"Here." she said, thrusting the baby into Eliza's lap. "Take him."

As Eliza rushed to gingerly grab hold of the bundle to stop it falling straight from her lap, both she and her husband turned to look at the stranger with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"What on earth do you mean, take him?" Eliza asked in astonishment, and Augustus said:

"Listen here! You can't just hand over a...a baby like this! It's...it's well...proposterous!"

Apparantly the strange, pale woman was entirely unconcern by her actions, she was much too busy glancing around nervously again.

"Do you hear me?" Augustus asked as Eliza stared down at the baby curiously. "I said you can't just hand over a baby like this! It's...crazy! You, Madam, are absolutely crazy!"

The stranger stooped again to peer at the couple, expression so deadly serious that Eliza thought she looked anything but crazy.

"His name," the woman said, eyes locking with Eliza's imploringly, "is Teddy. Teddy Lupin."

Eliza jumped a little as a pale hand reached through the open window to rest upon her arm. "You must keep him secret." the stranger told her. "And you must keep him safe."

And with that, before either Augustus or Eliza could say a word, the woman turned on her heel, dark coat billowing behind her, before turning and rushing away down the street.

"Now just you wait a minute!" Augustus shouted, much to the baby's distress, and Eliza winced as he immediately began to wail.

As his wife stared down at the bawling bundle with a completely clueless expression, Augustus reached to fling his car door open, rushing to undo his seat belt.

"Bloody woman!" he growled as he leapt out of the car and into the rain that was by now falling in sheets, his new suit was going to be ruined for sure, he thought furiously as he set off down the road at a run. The deranged old Snow Queen could pay for the dry cleaning...

But it soon became apparent to the drenched businessman that the strange, pale woman was nowhere to be seen.

It was almost as if...as if she had vanished into thin air...!

Just as this ridiculous thought occurred to him and he came to a reluctant halt beside a pedestrian crossing, Augustus' attention was diverted by the sound of a high pitched shriek of alarm, and he immediately spun around to look back towards his abandoned car.

"GUS! AUGUSTUS! COME QUICKLY!"

Huffing and puffing from the sudden burst of activity, Augustus ran full pelt back down the street, coming to a skidding halt beside the car and narrowly avoiding cracking his head upon the frame as he stooped to stick his head through the open window.

"Look!" Eliza squealed above the loud wails of the baby, and as his wife reached to tug the blankets away from the child's head, Augustus' eyes widened to the size of saucers.

The baby's hair had turned from a pale shade of brown to a shocking shade of bright red.


	2. The Wrong Kind of Party

_Note: Thank you very much to my kind reviewers! It was wonderful to hear from you!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this piece of writing. The same goes for chapter one, I think I forgot to mention earlier._

**2: The Wrong Kind of Party**

_As a shout of laughter rang out around the kitchen, she attempted to stifle her own giggling and prepared to make for the door, reaching to set her glass down beside the sink, only to find a bottle being thrust into her path. _

"_No, no, no!" she cried in feeble protest as she found her glass being refilled yet again. "Seriously, I mean it, I can't..."_

"_Don't be boring! Come on, stay just a little longer!"_

"_I really can't, I have to get back...the baby, y'know?"_

"_You should've brought him with you!"_

"_Oh yeah, yeah Bill, that would've been a great idea, wouldn't it? He'd have gotten plenty of sleep with the likes of you and the terrible twosome over there..." _

"_Oi!"_

"_We resent that!"_

_Setting the now full glass stubbornly down, she turned to shoot the double act sat at the table a wide grin, before forcing herself to be the sensible one. _

"_I can't stay. It's not fair to leave Mum with him all evening when she's under the weather, and besides, somebody's got to reset the protective wards before they wear off again. Remus is hardly going to get round to it, is he?" She shot the nearest window a meaningful look, and her companions all glanced outside where the silvery light of a full moon was casting soft shadows upon the garden wall. _

"_Let 'er go. She eez cutting it fine already." _

_Glancing up at the clock that was set above the kitchen sink to find this was true, she muttered:_

"_Bugger!" before reaching to fling a clumsy arm around her nearest friend's neck, leaning on tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek and mumble: "Look what you've done, you sod! See you later, yeah?" As she made a dash towards the door, narrowly avoiding tripping over the doormat as she hastily waved to the room at large, calling: "Thanks for tea, I'll bring him next time, promise!" And with that she pulled the door open and disappeared out into the dark, their farewell calls drifting out after her. _

_She appeared down the end of the reassuringly silent street with a soft pop a few minutes later, and set off up the road at a brisk pace, confident that she would arrive just in time for the old wards to wear off. She would replace them before going inside. And if she wasn't there in time, her mother would surely remember and step in. _

_No problem. Piece of cake._

_It was at that very moment that she heard a distinct rustling sound to her right, and she came to an abrupt halt, hand instinctively reached into her pocket, fingers closing tightly around the handle of her magic wand. As she stood stock still, eying the short alleyway that she had stopped beside, she heard a what seemed to be a muffled little wail._

_It was then that she caught sight of the bundle of blankets set down beside one of the tall wheely bins, and she hurriedly drew her wand and murmured:_

"_Lumos!" _

_The narrow concrete alley was flooded with light, and the wailing grew suddenly louder. It was a strange sound. Part of her was sure it was the cry of an infant, but then she was pretty sure that if she and her husband were to be awoken by their son making such a sound, she would probably turn to fix said husband with wide eyes, and ask him what in Merlin's name was it that she had given birth to. It was a shrill, piercing sound that made her flinch, and as she slowly edged her way towards it she could not help but grit her teeth against the noise. As she drew closer it seemed to get worse than ever, and by the time she came to a halt before it, dropping down into a crouch, her ears were positively ringing. _

_Wand trained cautiously upon the bundle, she reached down to grasp hold of the soft, fleecy material. And then, taking a deep breath, she pulled the blanket back..._

_The shrill wail rose a pitch and she would have thrown down her wand and clamped her hands to her ears had the sight before her not made her jump backwards, narrowly avoiding toppling over onto the grimy ground. _

_She stared down at the mark that appeared to have been seared into the revealed concrete. The Mark. _

_The Dark Mark. _

_Heart immediately beginning to race in panic, her gaze came to rest upon the blanket that she held in her hand. Soft, frilly, a pretty baby blue..._

_Baby blue..._

_The panic instantly set in. _

_Oh no...no, no, no..._

_The blanket dropped to the ground as she turned to run full pelt back up the alley, up the street towards the house..._

_No...please no...anything but that, anything at all..._

_She crashed through the front door that had been left ajar and without a single glance into the kitchen or the living room made for the stairs, panting as she took them three at a time..._

_How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let them distract me...not my boy...not my little boy..._

_She could hear her mother's sudden frantic calling from downstairs and yet she was so utterly focused that she did not stop to wonder why the older witch was not already up here, not trying to do something, not trying to make it stop..._

_Make it stop...make it all stop...for the love of Merlin, don't let them do it...don't let them take him, don't let them take my precious little boy..._

_And at that moment she burst into the nursery, feeling the sudden cold draft from it's wide open window, and she came to a skidding halt beside the cradle, reaching to grip hold of the side of it to steady her sudden stop. _

_Please, please, please..._

_No. No, no, no..._

_No baby. _

_No little boy. _

_Just an empty cradle and a discarded little teddy bear that her husband had placed there some hours earlier before he left the house._

_And as she heard her mother cluttering up the stairs, she felt her legs buckling underneath her, she squeezed her eyes shut against the nightmarish scene, gasping in a deep breath as she fell to her knees, hands still gripping the edge of the cradle. _

_She screamed._

At the sound of a high pitched scream, mingled with laughter, Nymphadora Lupin reluctantly opened her eyes, blinking a little against the bright sunshine of the Potters' back garden. A horde of children were midway through charging their way across the patio and down onto the grass in front of her, it was no doubt the beginning of a very enthusiastic game of tag. As she watched, one boy succeeded in catching a second, smaller child around the middle, and with a jerk the pair of them crashed to the ground, eliciting a shriek of horror from the younger of the pair. As he promptly burst into tears, a voice from the back door shouted:

"JAMES SIRIUS POTTER! How many times do I have to tell you to play nicely? Help Al up this instant!"

As James pulled the sobbing Al rather roughly back onto his feet and set about dusting the grass from his back, Dora sighed heavily and leant to rest her head upon her husband's shoulder.

"Take me home." she mumbled pleadingly, and as he too stared with distinctly faraway eyes at the children, Remus Lupin observed:

"We've only been here ten minutes."

Shifting closer so that she could reach to hug his arm with both of her own, she sighed yet again.

"I know that, but...but well...you know..."

As James Potter managed to tag a little girl with silvery blonde hair, causing her to let out a small shriek of protest, Remus took a turn at sighing himself.

"I know." he whispered, gaze suddenly upon his shoes, and after a long pause he finally decided: "I'll make our excuses, shall I?" With that, he gave his wife a rather feeble pat upon the arm before getting to his feet and heading off in search of their host.

Dora rather supposed that she ought feel guilty. After all, there was no doubt in her mind that Harry and Ginny had organised this little gathering, today of all days, specifically to keep both her and Remus occupied, to keep them cheerful.

And yet they had turned up over three hours later than Harry had suggested, and would be leaving before finishing their first drinks. She dreaded to think how much time Molly had spent that morning baking muffins in the kitchen.

But in all honesty she couldn't quite bring herself to care. Because this wasn't supposed to be a simple garden party, nor a simple batch of blueberry muffins.

No, Dora thought dismally as she watched the children in their frantic game. It was supposed to be her son's eleventh birthday party, with a birthday cake. And presents. And big smiles. And look, Mum, look what Harry got me, and watch, Dad, watch me blow out all of my candles...

She was supposed to be watching him run around with the rest of the children, getting up to mischief and covering his clothes in grass stains.

She was quite relieved when Remus returned a moment later and the two of them could make a speedy exit down the side entrance of the house and off down the street.

"Were they okay about it?" she asked once they had put a few houses between themselves and the noisy Potter-Weasly brood.

"They were fine." Remus assured her as she tucked her hand through the crook of his arm as they walked.

"Liar. Molly lectured you about the perils of being alone, Fleur complained you hadn't tried her punch and Hermione hugged you half to death until Harry and Ron had to drag her off of you, then you had to make a run for the door before Arthur asked if you wanted "a little chat". Admit it. That's exactly what happened."

There was a long pause before he mumbled:

"Actually, Ginny made the punch...and I'm not going to be alone, I'm going to be with you."

She gave a strained chuckle, not even sure herself whether it was one of amusement or despair.

"I think that makes it worse. I give it an hour before somebody floos to check up on us."

It was his turn to give an equally grim laugh, before admitting:

"I wish they wouldn't."

They continued on in silence until they reached the small green at the bottom of the road and headed for the shelter of the small cluster of trees in the far corner.

"What're you thinking?" she asked at last as they slowed their pace, waiting for an old woman who was walking her dog to pass them by. It was not until they reached the trees and she had turned to wrap her arms around his neck, peering up at him with scrutinizing dark eyes that Remus finally said:

"Eleven years old...I was thinking...this September..." he trailed off into silence, sucking in a deep breath as she finished:

"He'd be starting Hogwarts."

As Remus' gaze wandered to the treetops above them, he frowned when she mused:

"I wonder what House he'd have been in..."

"Did you talk to your mother this morning?"

At such a blatant effort to change the subject, Dora pursed her lips together against any form of protest, grip around the werewolf's neck tightening.

"No." she mumbled as he reached to loosen her stranglehold and take hold of her hands in his instead. "Why, did you?"

"I think you should." he informed her, as though she had not asked a question at all. "She needs to hear from you today." At this observation, there was deathly silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. As Dora fidgeted where she stood, refusing to meet his gaze, Remus dropped her hands in favour of folding his arms across his chest.

This single gesture appeared to tip his wife over the edge, and her mousy brown hair darkened to a deep, furious red as she practically shouted:

"I DO NOT BLAME MY MUM FOR WHAT HAPPENED! Stop bloody thinking otherwise!"

As a boy cycling past the green paused in his pedaling to stare at this little outburst, Remus did not so much as flinch.

"You wouldn't have a problem if we popped round there for coffee later, then?" he inquired calmly, and his wife stood staring up at him for a long moment, opening and closing her mouth several times as she struggled to know what to say.

"I go and visit her all the time!" she pointed out somewhat uncertainly, the fire in her voice audibly smothered.

"I know you do. But never on Ted's birthday, or..."

"Don't."

"You're sensible, Dora. She was feeling ill, she fell asleep in her chair, it wasn't her fault the wards failed, just like it wasn't your fault they distracted you and it wasn't my fault it was full moon. They were probably watching us for days, they knew what time we set the wards each day, when they'd fail..."

"I said don't."

"Voldemort had it all planned. You know all of that, you know we can't blame ourselves or anybody except him."

"Exactly!"

"But just because you know it doesn't mean you can help yourself. You tell me you don't blame yourself, but you still wonder what if I'd run a bit faster. And you tell your mother you don't blame her, but you still wish she'd woken up. And she's not stupid. She knows."

Dora's eyes drifted closed and she flopped forward to bury her face in his shirt.

"Oh Merlin..." she sniffed as he reached to hug her to him. "She does, doesn't she?"

"Talk to her." he insisted, head bowed to press a kiss atop her head, her hair once again a dull mousy brown.

They stood there, stock still under the trees, she sobbing quietly into his shirt as he stared blankly over the top of her head, lips pursed together into a thin, stoic line. And when his composure began to waver and his eyes seemed blurry and damp, Remus Lupin's grip upon his wife tightened more than ever, and the pair disappeared into thin air with a soft pop.


	3. The Worst Birthday

_Note: Thank you so much to everybody who has reviewed! I'm so glad you like this story! It's always lovely to hear from you. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this piece of writing._

**3: The Worst Birthday**

There were a number of reasons why Theodore Beddington was an unusual child.

For one thing, he hated birthdays.

"I've never heard of such a thing!" his nanny, Mrs. Plume had commented many years previously when, upon his seventh birthday, Theodore had informed her of this fact. "A boy who doesn't like birthdays! Goodness, Theodore, what a thing to say!"

It wasn't, Theodore supposed, that he couldn't like birthdays, it was simply the case that, when one was sort of boy that he was, liking birthdays was in actual fact quite difficult.

Birthdays were supposed to be exciting because you got given loads of presents, those toys you'd spent the past few months staring at through the toy shop window, nose pressed to the glass as if it had been glued there. Your mother baked you an enormous birthday cake, with frosted icing and candles, and you invited all of your friends round for tea, where you would eat all of your favorite foods that your mother had made specially. Then your father would sit down at the piano and lead everybody in an enthusiastic rendition of Happy Birthday To You, you felt proud and important, before your friends all went home with a party bag and a slice of cake. Your parents would spend the day saying things like My, haven't you grown fast! Look at how handsome you're getting, and it feels like only yesterday that I was bouncing you up and down upon my knee.

But of course those sort of birthdays didn't happen to boys like Theodore Beddington.

To be fair to his Uncle Augustus and Aunt Eliza, Theodore was never short of a present or two on his birthday, and they had never forgotten his "special" day either. But unwrapping countless items of clothing and school textbooks had never been the child's idea of fun, and by the time his eleventh birthday was approaching, Theodore had given up entirely on being presented with a gift that he truly wanted.

"What do you need all of those for?" Uncle Augustus had asked one year when his nephew had presented him with a list of presents that he would much prefer, after Mrs. Plume had suggested he write one. "When I was your age we used to make our own fun!"

Theodore had never missed out on a birthday cake, either, though he was pretty certain that Aunt Eliza always bought a plain sponge cake from the supermarket in town, and rather than singing to him, or making the sort of cheery comments one would expect, Aunt Eliza's usual comment was:

"I wish he'd grow up faster!" And rather than looking back at the wonderful years that they had shared with their nephew, the Beddingtons seemed much keener to count the years till he turned eighteen, when he would officially be an adult and they could be free of him.

"Children are so expensive!" Uncle Augustus would complain each year when watching Theodore unwrap yet another pair of trousers and another new jumper.

Theodore supposed he was rather expensive, especially when his Aunt insisted on buying him the most expensive, smart clothes that she could lay her hands upon.

"I don't like scruffy children." she'd constantly remind Mrs. Plume at the breakfast table each morning. "What will people say if he goes out looking like he wears hand-me-downs?"

"Not much, Auntie." Theodore had told her one bright summer morning as he gazed wistfully out of the dining room window. "I never go out anywhere in the first place."

"Yes well," Aunt Eliza had retorted as she peered down at him critically over the rim of her teacup. "You should be grateful, Theodore. If I were as much of a little freak as you are, I'd not go out in the garden, let alone into town! Just imagine what the other children would think about you!"

And of course that was the other problem that Theodore had with birthdays. So paranoid were his aunt and uncle about other people finding out what a "little freak" he was, that they rarely let Mrs. Plume take him anywhere. The only other children he knew were his cousins, Abigail, Albert and Amelia, and they had very little to do with him because when they visited his aunt often sent him to play alone in his bedroom. Consequently there were no parties and well wishing friends when it was Theodore's birthday.

The only thing that Theodore did like about his birthday, or indeed about any day at all, was Mrs. Plume, or Nana Plume as he liked to call her. Nana Plume had been Theodore's nanny since he was a baby and as far as Theodore was concerned she was the most wonderful person in the whole entire world. She was forever kind, caring, cuddly and warm, just like a nanny ought to be, which was lucky for Theodore because he spent almost every waking hour with her at his side. She woke him up every morning, made him breakfast, washed and ironed his clothes, tutored him, played games with him, made his lunch and dinner, and tucked him back into bed every night.

Theodore loved Nana Plume, and Nana Plume loved Theodore.

Which was much more than could be said about the child's feelings for his aunt and uncle, which were indifferent at best. It wasn't that they were bad people, Nana Plume often reminded him, it was simply that they were not the "right sort of people" to be parents. Being charitable was fashionable, all the celebrities were doing it, and there was nothing Aunt Eliza liked more than being in fashion. And what was more charitable than taking in a poor, helpless little orphan? Not much, Theodore assumed, because if that were the case he would probably be somewhere entirely different.

"If Gus and I hadn't taken you," Eliza often claimed conversationally over supper, "you'd probably be in a science lab somewhere, with a load of scientists doing tests on you to figure out why you're so strange."

When he had suggested this to Nana Plume, the old lady had laughed at Aunt Eliza's words and assured Theodore that he wasn't strange, he was special.

"And if they wouldn't have you," she'd assured him as she tucked him into bed, "I would. Whatever colour your hair is."

Theodore's hair was, ninety nine percent of the time, golden and curly, because Aunt Eliza liked it that way.

"He looks like a little cherub!" she would announce, and then she would reach and ruffle his hair, voice high as she said: "Don't you, Theodore dear?" It was at moments like those that Theodore thought she would have done better to take in a stray puppy, rather than a child.

But sometimes, just sometimes, Theodore's hair was not curly in the slightest, and it wasn't his aunt's favorite shade of gold.

Sometimes it was straight and black as coal.

Sometimes it was short and ginger, and sometimes it was long and brown.

Sometimes it was bright turquoise or bright red. Sometimes it was even green with blue stripes.

And that was the main thing that made Theodore Beddington unusual. Even more so than his lack of enthusiasm for birthdays.

He could change his appearance by just thinking about it. He was a shape shifter, or as his aunt and uncle liked to put it: a freak.

Except he wasn't a freak, he was simply special, just like Nana Plume told him. And that was why, on his eleventh birthday, Theodore Beddington strode proudly down to the breakfast table with the brightest head of turquoise hair his aunt and uncle had ever seen.

"Oh god, look at him..." were Aunt Eliza's first mumbled words when he entered the room, but Theodore ignored her. After all, he was perfectly used to such comments, they certainly weren't about to ruin his birthday.

But something else certainly would do.

"Where's Nana Plume?" the birthday boy asked, having noticed that the elderly woman was nowhere to be seen, and Uncle Augustus didn't bother to look up from his morning newspaper as he said:

"She's upstairs with Clarissa, packing."

Theodore paused, midway through reaching for the pot of strawberry jam, so that he could turn to stare in bewilderment in his uncle's direction.

"Packing...?"

"Well of course she is, Theodore!" Aunt Eliza said impatiently as she sat scrutinizing her carefully manicured nails through beady eyes. "The operation's this afternoon!"

"Op...operation...?" Theodore whispered, and his aunt let out an irritated little huff and asked her husband:

"Why is it that he does that, Gus? Why is it that he always has to repeat everything I..." she trailed off as the turquoise haired boy leapt to his feet and turned to dash back out of the door, narrowly avoiding knocking a jug of orange juice off of the table and onto the floor. The two adults watched him go in silence, before she sighed heavily again and Augustus simply muttered:

"Children...!"

When Theodore burst into Nana Plume's bedroom some moments later to find the nanny and her daughter Clarissa in the middle of packing a selection of nightgowns into a bag, the elderly woman turned to regard him for a long, silent moment before she finally said:

"Oh Theodore..."

"Where are you going?" Theodore cried, eying Clarissa accusingly as she too turned to look at him.

"Now Theodore dear," Nana Plume began calmly as his hair began to looked distinctly redder than bright turquoise ought do, "you mustn't be angry..."

"You...you never told me you were...were going!" Theodore complained, eyes blinking rapidly against tears.

"I've been meaning to, dear, really I have! But it's all been a bit fast, the hospital had a cancellation..."

As she hurried forward to envelope the child in a firm hug, Theodore whispered:

"Are you very sick, Nana?"

"Don't be silly dear," his nanny chuckled, grip upon him tightening as he buried his face in her cardigan, "of course not! Your Nana is as tough as old boots! I'll be back before you know it!"

"But it's my birthday." Theodore reminded her dejectedly as she drew back from him, cupping his face in her soft, talcum powdered hands.

"I know it is." she beamed, before turning towards the chest of drawers beside them and reaching to pull open the top drawer. "You didn't think I'd forget my Teddy's birthday, did you?"

Theodore watched, momentarily distracted from his grief as she drew out an old, faded looking book bound in red leather.

"I didn't have time to wrap it up, I'm afraid." Nana Plume told him as she pressed the book into his hands, and he looked down at the elaborate gold lettering upon the cover: Myths and Legends of The Ancient World.

"My father used to read these to my brother and I when I was a girl." she told him as he reached carefully to open the book at a random page, marveling at the vivid pictures that accompanied the stories. As he turned a page and reached to trace an elaborate title with his index finger, Theodore declared:

"It's the best present I've ever had, Nana!"

The elderly woman positively beamed.

"Yes, I did rather think you would like it!" she agreed, sounding very pleased with her choice of gift indeed.

"Will you read me a story?" Theodore asked her, causing her smile to falter somewhat.

"Oh I'm not sure, dear, the taxi will be here soon..."

"Please?" Theodore looked up at her with the most pleading look that he could muster. "Just one story? A short one? For my birthday?"

Nana Plume exchanged a questioning look with Clarissa, who simply smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"I can take your bag downstairs for you, Mum." the blonde haired woman offered, reaching for the bag before her mother could protest. "I'm sure you've got time for one story!" she offered the birthday boy a bright smile as she slung the bag over one shoulder and headed for the door. "Happy Birthday, Theodore!" she added as she disappeared through the door.

"Oh alright then!" Nana Plume agreed, and Theodore immediately bounded over to the bed. Once he was sat up against the pillows and Nana Plume had perched beside him, he asked excitedly:

"What was your favorite story in this book when you were my age, Nana?"

"That's easy!" Nana Plume chuckled as she took the book from him to search for the right page, and when she found it a moment later Theodore saw the tell tale signs of worn pages that had been turned more often than most. He examined the large picture that had been printed upon the left hand page beside the story. It was a bright forest scene, trees framing a clearing in which there stood a large grey wolf, eyes staring back out of the book at the child. At its feet were sat a pair of naked babies, one reaching to grasp hold of a fistful of fur in its fist.

"The Legend of Romulus and Remus." Nana Plume identified as Theodore stared into the wolf's deep, amber eyes.

"It looks like a friendly wolf." he decided, and as she too looked down at the picture Nana Plume recalled:

"Yes, I always thought so."

Nana Plume's telling of The Legend of Romulus and Remus was by far the highlight of Theodore's birthday, and his spirits dropped considerably once she had announced The End and they had heard the beeping car horn of the waiting taxi outside. After she had left, Theodore had spent half an hour pretending to be delighted by the usual boring array of clothes that his aunt and uncle had bought him, before disappearing off into his bedroom for the day to read his book of Myths and Legends. He tried not to think about Nana Plume, tried not to worry about how her operation was going, or if she minded being in the hospital, instead he concentrated on his book, taking his time to examine each illustration in great detail before moving on to the next page. The usual shop-bought sponge cake was presented to him at dinner, he blew out his candles hurriedly and went back to his book. He was just re-examining the picture of the wolf and the babies, wondering which child was Romulus and which was Remus, musing that of the twins Remus seemed to have been, to his mind, the more amiable of the two, when there came a soft knocking upon his bedroom door.

Theodore's first thought was of Nana Plume, because only she would knock so softly, indeed his aunt and uncle rarely bothered to knock at all, but then he remembered that she was at the hospital.

"Hello?"

He was, therefore, very surprised indeed when the door slowly opened and he found his Aunt Eliza peering into the room.

"Theodore, darling..." she said as she shuffled over the threshold, hands clasped together in front of her, and Theodore couldn't help but frown a little because he could not recall her ever calling him darling before.

"Yes Auntie?" he said after a moment, at last remembering to reply.

Aunt Eliza came to a halt at the bottom of his bed and regarded him as he sat staring at her, his book lying open upon his lap.

"I'm afraid I've some terrible news for you." she said after a pause that seemed to last a lifetime to the boy. "It's Mrs. Plume, I'm afraid. She's...gone."

Theodore's grip upon the leather bound volume tightened in panic and he drew in a sharp breath.

"G...gone?" he managed to breath, feeling his heart begin to race in his chest.

"Yes, Theodore." Aunt Eliza told him, for once seemingly not irritated by his repetition. "Gone. She's dead."


	4. The Runaway

_Note: No, I don't know what the roads surrounding London Victoria Station are called, nor what they contain (even though I was up there yesterday afternoon...!) This should probably go at the end of the chapter...ah well! _

_Thanks to my reviewers, you make me smile! XD _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this piece of writing._

**4: The Runaway**

As she lay sprawled upon the sofa, staring up at the paper file that she held in both hands, Dora Lupin let out an exaggerated sigh and declared:

"This is RUBBISH!"

From his position sat at the small writing desk in one corner of the living room, her husband glanced up from the letter he was writing to mutter:

"Yes, so you keep saying..."

"But it is, Remus!" the witch protested, turning a page in the file and glaring at it it accusingly. "If I wanted to run around after a bunch of teenagers for half my life I wouldn't have joined the bloody Auror Department!"

"But you were happy to join the Order of the Phoenix." Remus pointed out, offering her a raised eyebrow. "And running around after a bunch of teenagers was pretty much exactly what we did."

"Shut up!" his wife snapped, dropping the file onto her lap so that she could offer him a scowl. "You do realise why Kingsley's doing this, don't you?"

"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me." the werewolf said, not daring to raise his voice above a mumble as he turned his attention back to his letter.

"It's because he thinks I'm EMOTIONAL! He thinks I can't do my job properly! Which is bloody ridiculous, isn't it? I'm not EMOTIONAL!"

"Either that or the Auror Department's quiet this week and Magical Law Enforcement need an extra pair of hands."

"Yeah right! Admit it, Kingsley thinks that I'm...that I'm...unprofessional!"

"Kingsley thinks you're unprofessional? Well of course he does, Dora, that was exactly what he was thinking when he made you Deputy Head of Aurors."

"It's RUBBISH!"

Flinching at her raised voice, Remus abandoned his quill upon the desk with a sigh and turned back to face her.

"So go and tell Kinglsey where to jump, then!" he suggested, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Dora stared at him in bemusement.

"What?" she finally said, voice at last a reasonable volume.

"You heard me!" he said with a shrug. "March into his office and tell him where to stick his stupid job. Then come back home and we can start packing our bags for when the house gets repossessed."

There was a lengthy silence as they stared at one another, before she let out another heavy sigh and turned to bury her face in the nearest cushion.

"It's a difficult time." Remus reminded her quietly, reaching to pass a weary hand across his eyes. "Kingsley knows it. He's trying to lessen the burden a bit. This is no good time to be throwing yourself into life threatening situations, your much too preoccupied. That doesn't make you unprofessional, it makes you human."

"Can't he just give me a couple of days off?" she grumbled into the cushion, hugging it to her as he said:

"No. You need to keep busy."

"Who are you, my dad or something?"

"Sometimes I wonder."

Drawing her face away from the cushion, Dora picked up the file and swung her feet down onto the carpet. Tossing the file down onto the coffee table she got stiffly to her feet, having lain still much too long, before padding across the room until she was stood just behind him. Watching him sign the bottom of the parchment, _with much love, Remus and Dora_, finishing with an exaggerated flourish, she leant to drape her arms around his neck, chin coming to rest atop his head.

"How do plan on keeping busy?" she asked him as he blew upon the ink in an attempt to make it dry. "I won't be here to moan and complain at you."

He did not reply for a long moment, concentrating on folding the letter neatly in half before reaching for the envelope.

"I might read a book." he decided after a moment, reaching to pull open a small drawer in the desk and extracting a small stick of blood red wax. "And then I might start on the attic...and I might go to Diagon Alley, get those potion ingredients you were after. I'll be busy."

"Good." she said, pausing to press a light kiss atop his head. "But stay clear of the attic, won't you love? We'll tackle it together at the weekend."

"Mmm..."  
"I mean it. Merlin knows what's up there!"

"If I come across a dragon I'll be sure to give you a shout." As he sealed the letter, reaching for his wand to dry the wax with a vague flicking gesture, she pressed her lips together against arguing, instead watching him flip over the envelope and set about writing the address, beginning with _Mr and Mrs. H. Potter. _

"D'you think they're annoyed?" she asked as he finished one line and began the next.

"Worried, perhaps, but not annoyed."

"They're probably holding a family meeting as we speak. Molly's outlining plans to ambush us when we leave the house, ready to zap us with a couple dozen Cheering Charms."

The werewolf sniggered, setting down his quill and reaching to entangle his fingers with hers, muttering:

"I don't think the situation is quite that dire. "

"No, I don't suppose it is." she agreed, tone distinctly guilty. "Eleven years...it's a long time."

"It is."

"It's like it's...easier...but not..."

"I know."

"I just mean...well we have to just get on with our lives, don't we?"

"Precisely."

"That sounds cold. I don't mean it to..."

"I know."

"It's just...you know..."

"Dora?"

"Hm?"

"You're rambling."

"Right..." she sighed heavily, free hand reaching to tangle in his hair as she wondered: "What time is it?"

"About six." Remus told her, staring at their entwined fingers absentmindedly, thumb scuffing her fingers as he asked: "Do you want dinner?"

"I'm not hungry." she mumbled, eyes drifting closed. "I'd much rather just go to sleep." Straightening up and slipping her hand free from his grasp she asked: "Are you coming?"

"In a minute." he told her, holding up the letter in explanation, and with that she shuffled over towards the door, heading for the stairs.

It took him some minutes to coax their owl, Moody, out of his cage, because the bird was as suspicious and paranoid as its namesake. By the time he had persuaded the creature out of the window along with the letter, before locking up the house for the night and heading upstairs himself, Remus found Dora already in bed, staring glass-eyed up at the ceiling. He left her to her staring whilst he wandered into the adjoining bathroom to brush his teeth and observe just how silver his hair was looking these days, before heading back into the bedroom to search the chest of drawers beside the dressing table for those elusive pajamas that he could have sworn he'd ironed and placed in there only the previous afternoon.

"Remus?"

At the sound of his name he did not pause in his searching, frowning deeply as he tried a different drawer, managing a vague:

"Hm?"

"D'you think we made the right decision? About not having another baby, I mean."

It was not for almost a full minute that he replied, having just extracted the trousers he was looking for, finding that the accompanying top was in actual fact not accompanying them in any shape or form whatsoever.

"It's a bit late to be asking me that question, don't you think?" he finally asked, tossing the trousers in the direction of the bed and closing the drawer with a defeated frown.

Dora's gaze drifted down from an intent examination of the ceiling to watch him set about unbuttoning his shirt, the frown still creasing his brow.

"Well yeah, I know. Obviously it's too late now...but..." she shuffled until she was sat more upright before telling him. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we'd had another one. Don't you?"

At the silence that followed, she bit her lip and went back to staring at the ceiling, only looking back at him when she heard the sheets rustling and felt the mattress shifting as he climbed into bed beside her. He took a turn at staring at the ceiling for a moment before deciding:

"No, not really." He reached to draw the duvet up over his torso, only for her to shuffle over to rest her head upon his chest. "I just think of Teddy. He's a better daydream than some other child. He was real. For a while, at least."

"He was beautiful." Dora recalled, shifting closer as he reached to put his arm around her. "He looked like you."

"He had your eyes. Sometimes."

She sniggered, fingers drumming absentmindedly upon his chest before she muttered:

"Merlin...I don't think I can do work in the morning. Even if it is just a bunch of silly teenagers. I don't care what MLE think, there's no way they're up to anything serious. So they stole a dodgy magical artifact or two, I bet they're just cluttering off to Knockturn to flog them to the hags and the banshees down there. Evil intent my arse!"

"You never know." Remus reasoned, not sounding even vaguely convinced himself, and she muttered:

"Oh I really do." Shifting again until her face was buried in the crook of his neck she declared: "If you don't come meet me for coffee I'm going to do a runner halfway through the shift."

At the touch of her lips to his throat, he found his lips curving into a small smile.

"Victoria Street Cafe, like before?" he murmured as she reached to coax his face towards her own, and when their lips met a mere moment later her only reply was:

"Mmm."

Theodore watched the dawn through watery eyes.

He had been sat upon the window sill of his bedroom for many long hours, staring out into the blackness outside, turning Aunt Eliza's words over and over in his mind.

That's just how it goes sometimes, she'd said. That's just part of life.

All operations were risky when you were as old as Nana Plume. It was all going to be just fine. They'd find a new nanny.

Theodore didn't want a new nanny, of that much he was sure. And by the time the dawn came he was beginning to think that he didn't want anything much at all. He didn't want Aunt Eliza and her constant complaining. He didn't want Uncle Augustus and his obsession with money. He didn't want a big house to live in, or a wardrobe the size of Narnia to store his designer clothes in, because really what was the point? They never made him happy.

What exactly he did want had yet to become clear, but the young boy was certain that whatever it was, he wouldn't find it here. The only thing he had here was a waste paper bin full of damp tissues and a complete lack of hope.

And that was when Theodore decided that he was going to run away.

He'd packed some clothes into a rucksack along with Nana Plume's book, his toothbrush and a bar of soap and a comb wrapped up in a face flannel. He was sure there were other things he needed but found his mind seemed much too slow to think of them. And there wouldn't be time to think much more, he was sure, because he'd have to leave as soon as the sun was up, before anybody noticed he was gone. He kept picturing in his mind the little ceramic dish set upon the cabinet by the front door, where Uncle Augustus left his car keys and his wallet, the latter of which the boy planned on taking with him, minus the credit cards because they wouldn't be much use and he'd feel a bit less guilty. Stealing was wrong, after all.

It was precisely six o'clock in the morning when Theodore crept out of his bedroom, fully dressed, bag slung over one shoulder. He moved quietly down the hallway, pausing for a second outside of his aunt and uncle's bedroom door.

He waited to feel something. Guilt. Sadness. Doubt. But all he could think was that they weren't even his real aunt and uncle, and he wasn't even sure that they would even miss him. It was perhaps even possible that Uncle Augustus would be glad to see him gone. And so Theodore continued to creep on down the hallway until he reached the stairs. He was careful to avoid the ones he knew would creak, and it took him several minutes to make it down to the ground floor in absolute silence.

Taking Augustus' wallet didn't make him feel anything like as awful as he had first imagined, or indeed thought it should. It simply confirmed his suspicions that there was a large part of him that really didn't care. Wallet safely in his backpack, credit cards and a few stray receipts left in the dish, Theodore opened the door and slipped outside.

As soon as the door had clicked shut behind him, Theodore started to run, heart suddenly pounding like his feet upon the gravel driveway as he attempted to ignore the sudden thoughts that rampaged through his mind.

_Where are you going to go?_

_What are you going to do when you get there?_

_What happens if they catch you?_

The last question entered his thoughts as he reached the tarmac lane at the end of the drive, and he hurriedly turned left and ran faster still down the road towards town. But the bag on his back was heavy, and he was tired from sleeping so little and crying so much, it was not long before his frantic run was reduced to a slow, shuffling walk. But as he got closer to the outskirts of town Theodore began to feel calmer, his brain began to kick in and he started to try to formulate some kind of plan. By the time he found himself wandering up past the terrace houses near the middle of town he had concluded that he needed to put as much distance between himself and his aunt and uncle as quickly as possible if he had any hope of not getting caught and being marched back home.

And the fastest way out of town, he guessed, would be by train...

The train station was easy enough to find, for it was well sign posted, but when he eventually arrived there Theodore found himself feeling quite intimidated. He had never traveled by train before and the crowds of early morning commuters dashing to and fro made his heart race again. He gripped onto the straps of his bag, rooted to the spot as he gazed around at the chaotic scene, before he caught sight of the large electronic board that displayed the train times upon it. The array of different times and destinations baffled him somewhat, so he concentrated on the train that would be departing next from Platform One.

It was the 6:53 service to London Victoria.

Theodore drew in a resolute breath and marched himself up to the nearest ticket booth.

"I want to go to London Victoria, please." he informed the bored looking woman behind the glass. She mumbled something that he didn't quite catch, so he fished Augustus' wallet out of his bag and offered her a fifty pound note. Once armed with a ticket and a couple of handfuls of change he went to tackle the ticket barrier, running through for fear that it might close on him, before going to stand and wait on Platform One. When the train arrived a few minutes later and Theodore climbed on board, he felt quite proud of himself, musing that perhaps being on his own wasn't all that difficult after all. As the train pulled out of the station he got out Nana Plume's book and reread the Legend of Romulus and Remus again.

It was a long train ride to say the least, but Theodore didn't mind in the slightest. He enjoyed watching trees and buildings whiz past the carriage window and he was almost disappointed when it was finally announced that the train was approaching London Victoria station.

Victoria was at least ten times the size of the first train station, and possibly a hundred times busier. Theodore found himself being jostled this way and that, and on a couple of occasions he nearly found himself being knocked right off his feet by people rushing past him. He tried best to follow the signs for the exit, trying best to ignore the anxiety that was insulting his insides and ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that was telling him that he had made a huge mistake.

And then, at long last, Theodore Beddington stumbled out of London Victoria Train Station, out into the bustling road beyond. One of the first things that his bewildered, panicked eyes spotted was a large street sign, white with bold black lettering:

_Victoria Street. _


	5. What is Necessary

_Note: Thank you to my lovely reviewers! I'm so glad you are enjoying this story! XD_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this piece of writing._

**5: What is Necessary **

Theodore Beddington sat down upon the wall outside of a towering, grand looking old building, staring blankly across the road at a small cafe.

How long he sat and stared, he wasn't entirely sure, because he was too busy wondering what he was supposed to do next. He supposed he hadn't really expected to get this far, he had been sure that somebody was going to catch him, stop him, march him back home...

So...now what?

Over the road a waitress was busy clearing away cups from the tables outside of the cafe. An old woman was sat at one table, sipping a cup of coffee, and on another a man with silvery brown hair was leant back in his chair, deeply engrossed in a book.

Theodore was just considering following their lead and going to buy himself a cup of tea...just to have something to do...when a voice beside him made him jump, he narrowly avoided toppling off the wall.

"You alright there, kid?"

Theodore turned to find a trio of teenaged boys stood upon the pavement, all eying him curiously. The one stood closest to him, who had asked the question, was a tall, skinny boy with short, shaven blonde hair and a thin, pointy face.

The child immediately began to feel his heart pound worriedly in his chest. He had never had much contact with teenagers before, let alone ones who looked as fierce as those stood before him.

"I...um..." Theodore swallowed hard, shifting his feet nervously as the boy took a step closer to him, his friends just behind him. "I'm fine, thank you."

"It's just you look rather lost." the boy explained, dropping down to sit upon the wall beside him, and Theodore glanced at the other two boys, one who was wearing a oversized hoodie and another who appeared to have a large bolt piercing his nose.

"I...I'm fine." Theodore mumbled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "I just...I'm..."

"I'm Andy." the first boy announced, and to Theodore's surprise he held out his hand for the younger boy to shake. As Theodore reluctantly consented to a brief handshake, Andy told him: "And they're Dom and AJ. You got a name?"

"Theodore." the young boy admitted, only to feel a little at ease at the three teens smiling broadly at him.

"Nice to meet you, Theodore." Andy said as Dom and AJ murmured similar greetings. "So...are you waiting for somebody or something?"

Theodore studied the friendly look upon the boy's face. His misgivings faltering, he found that before he could quite think better of it, tears gathered in his eyes and he whimpered:

"I...I ran away."

"You ran away...?" Andy repeated, frowning deeply as his friends went to sit the other side of the boy.

"Yes..." Theodore told him, reaching to swipe at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. "I...Nana died...so...so I ran away..."

"So you're...homeless, then?" Andy attempted to clarify, exchanging glances with his silent companions, and at the realization that he would have to answer in the positive, Theodore reached to bury his face in his hands.

"I should go home." he whispered, jumping slightly when he felt an arm around his shoulders.

"No you shouldn't, he shouldn't, should he, guys?"

"No, he shouldn't."

"No."

"Why not?" Theodore asked, straightening up and eying Andy's arm around him worriedly.

"Because!" the teen cried, seemingly oblivious to the child's discomfort. "You're special!"

Theodore stared at him blankly. After a sizable pause, Andy elaborated:

"Your hair."

As realization struck him, Theodore struggled to keep his expression neutral.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about." he mumbled, reaching to tangle his fingers in his hair experimentally...

Where he had expected to feel curls, he found his fingertips brushing against smooth, sleek locks.

"It's okay," Andy told him, voice dropping to a whisper. "We saw it changing. We know what you are."

"A...a freak?" Theodore guessed, wondering why he didn't feel quite as worried as he had anticipated about talking to the teenagers. Uncle Augustus hated the youth of today with a passion, he had assured Theodore that in the cities they all they did was sit around on street corners, drinking cheap beer, grunting at one another and threatening to beat up passersby.

And yet this trio seemed to be nothing like Uncle Augustus' damning description. They looked a little rough around the edges perhaps, with their disheveled, baggy clothes and occasional piercings, but Theodore thought that overall they weren't so bad.

In actual fact, he liked them. They seemed genuinely concerned for him, they were very friendly, and if he were honest Theodore would admit that in his current situation he was willing to befriend just about anybody.

"No, not a freak." Andy said with a grin. "You're a metamorphmagus, aren't you?"

Again, Theodore stared blankly at him.

"I'm a what?"

At his confusion, the three teenagers exchanged glances, and a disbelieving Dom observed:

"He has absolutely no idea, does he?"

Remus Lupin had awoken that morning with a thick, groggy head that had left him to bury his face in his pillow and wish he had not woken up at all. One blind hand moving searchingly beneath the covers towards his wife's half of the bed had confirmed that Dora had already left for work, and the werewolf had silently cursed himself for not waking earlier, having been determined to make her breakfast before she disappeared into the floo. He was also surprised that she had left him to sleep, intentionally or otherwise, for sneaking softly around the house or indeed anywhere had never been her strong point.

At last his curiosity about the time got the better of him, and he slowly rolled over, blurry eyes coming to rest upon the clock upon the bedside table.

Half past eleven.

Sweet Merlin...

Remus reached to throw back the covers and heaved himself up into a sitting position. As he stumbled out of bed and made his way groggily out of the bedroom and across the landing to the bathroom, he mused that he was in desperate need of caffeine of some sort, and by the time he was showered and dressed it would probably almost be time to head off to London anyway. Maybe he'd get there early and have two cups instead of one...

As he stood in the shower a few minutes later, hot water dousing his face as he groped around blindly in search of the soap, he had absolutely no idea that such a mundane, if a little late, beginning to a day would turn out to be the start of the most extraordinary week of his life.

He was at the cafe at half past twelve, half an hour earlier than he and Dora had agreed. Of course he should probably have made a start on the attic, or tidied up the kitchen from breakfast, but his resolve to stay busy had disappeared along with the soap suds down the drain when he had showered. He had concluded that, if he were entirely honest, he didn't quite feel ready to carry on with life regardless. He'd attempted false cheer to a degree the day before, for his wife's sake, but Dora was at work now, he was on his own...

Perhaps Molly had been right. Being alone was unhealthy for him.

The day his son had been born had been the most glorious day of Remus Lupin's life. He had never been more proud of anything in his whole entire life. Of course he had been terrified as well as proud, in equal measures, terrified of the question that he had once posed to Harry when they had argued at Grimmauld Place:

What would the new regime do to a child like Teddy?

Remus had always thought himself a realist. Dora had labeled him a pessimist every once in a while, but he supposed in times of war pessimists and realists were very closely related indeed. Had Teddy been another man's son, had Remus been on the outside looking in, he always thought he would have seen what was coming a million miles off. He would have known that it was possible, even likely, that Voldemort would have made baby Teddy a target. He would have known that no matter how careful they were, how cautious and protective, there was always a chance that the Death Eaters would outsmart them. Teddy had been, after all, the son of two Order members, one of whom was the estranged niece of Bellatrix Lestrange, the other a werewolf who was, in the blood purists' view, the scum of the earth.

For one who had no understanding of love, Voldemort had certainly known how to use it to hit Remus and Dora where it hurt the most.

And it had hurt. It had been worse than agony. And for some reason, when he had arrived home that morning after the full moon, looking forward to that cooked breakfast Dora had promised him and the opportunity to bounce his son up and down on his knee, Remus had been shocked beyond belief to find himself confronted with an empty cradle and a sobbing heap of robes huddled in one corner that had turned out to be his wife. He hadn't known what to do, what to say, he'd simply stood in the doorway, wide eyed gaze slowly moving between cradle and witch, heart thudding against his ribcage like a hammer smashing his world into tiny, piercing pieces. He had never in his wildest nightmare imagined something quite as awful as this. Sometimes he would dream that he had died, or sometimes he'd awake in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat, a vision of Dora's dead body seared into the back of his eyelids, but it was never as awful as losing Teddy. Such total ruin was beyond his imagination.

Because when he lost Teddy, Remus thought he was going to lose Dora too, a double blow. Not in a flash of green light as he saw in his nightmares, but slowly. Slowly slipping away, deeper and deeper into darkness until he was quite convinced that if she were left alone, even for a little while, she might just...

He didn't go there. Not anymore. He had sense enough for that, at least, even if he allowed himself to grieve over Teddy. That was allowed, that was rational, because Teddy was really gone.

That was why he allowed himself to order the largest mug of coffee on sale and, abandoning his wallet on the table and shrugging off his jacket, proceeded to become entirely engrossed in a book.

Escapism. Remus didn't know what he would do without it.

As he sat at the little table, reading his book and sipping his coffee, the werewolf had absolutely no idea that mere meters away, just across the road, a group of boys were examining him very closely indeed.

"He's totally not even going to notice. I mean look at him, a bloody bomb could go off in the cafe and he'd still be reading!"

"And he's left it right there on the edge of the table, it'd be simple."

Theodore Beddington shifted uncomfortably upon the wall that he was sat upon, not quite believing what he was hearing. He had been sat talking to Andy and his friends for some twenty minutes or so, and they had been quite possibly the most life changing twenty minutes of his entire life.

_What you can do_, the other boys had told him, huddled in a group so as not to be overheard by passersby,_ is magic. Real magic. You're a wizard, Theodore_.

And Theodore believed them. What was there not to believe? He had always known that what he could do was not in the slightest bit normal. The exciting part had come a moment later when Andy had whispered:

_You're not the only one, either. We're wizards too._

He had gone on to explain that they were not quite as special as Theodore was, they could not change their appearance in the way that he did, but they could do magic, and Theodore could learn to do it too.

But there was a problem, Dom had pointed out when Andy had finished his grand revelation with a broad grin. Some magic _wasn't allowed_. It was _against The Rules_. If they were to get caught using magic there would be _trouble_. Theodore had not gotten the chance to ask what sort of trouble there would be, nor who would be causing it, because AJ had recalled quite alarmingly that their friend Carl had been_ found out_ and they had not seen him again since.

At such a story, Theodore had suddenly felt less excited. In fact he had felt frightened.

_And that's why we have to stick together! _Andy had announced fiercely, throwing an arm around Theodore's shoulders and making the young boy jump. _We have to stick together, it's the only way we'll survive. _

Theodore had spent the following ten minutes feeling somewhat numb with an odd mixture of bewilderment and fear. Andy's cheery insistence that it would all be okay _because you've got us now_ only bewildered Theodore further. When the boys had begun to discuss their lack of money and what precisely they planned on doing about it, the only muddled conclusion that Theodore was able to come to was that he appeared to have unknowingly joined some sort of street gang...

...who were about to rob an innocent man of his wallet...

"Well if you're gonna do it you better get a move on," Dom was saying. "People are bound to get suspicious if we stand here staring all day."

Theodore opened and closed his mouth several times, desperate to point out just how appalled he was by their plan, only for AJ to grumble:

"Well go on then, do it! Hurry up, I'm starving, I've not eaten since that burger the other day!"

Theodore swallowed any comment that he had. It appeared that Andy's grand talk of survival had been no great exaggeration.

Then, to the young boy's alarm, three sets of eyes turned to regard him keenly.

"You look pretty cute and innocent, don't you Theodore?" Dom observed with a broad grin. "Nobody would expect a bad thing of you, huh?"

A he felt himself blushing, Theodore's gaze dropped to his shoes and AJ agreed:

"Butter wouldn't melt!"

"You're right." Andy said, and before Theodore could protest the blonde haired youth had grasped hold of him by the arm and pulled him off of the wall and onto his feet. "Hey Theodore, you're one of us now, right? You can do this for us, can't you? It's dead easy, look..."

As he found himself positioned to stare across the street at the cafe, Andy's hands upon his shoulders, Theodore clenched his teeth in panic.

"I...I don't know..." he mumbled, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "I mean...I don't think I can...it's just...well...you know..."

"Don't be daft, it'll be a piece of cake!"

"But...but stealing is wrong..." As soon as the protest had left his mouth, Theodore found himself wincing as all three boys stared at him with varying degrees of offense.

"Well of course it is!" Andy cried after a moment, hands at last leaving Theodore's shoulders so that he could throw them up in emphasis. "Of course stealing is wrong, Theodore, of course it is, we know that, don't we guys?"

"Of course."

"Absolutely."

"Exactly! But d'you know what else it is, Theodore?"

Theodore's gaze dropped to his shoes as he shrugged, mumbling:

"No..."

"It's NECESSARY!" Andy declared rather loudly, causing a passing elderly lady to glance at the group of boys worriedly. "We don't have any money, Theodore, we don't have anything! We gotta eat, don't we? We gotta buy stuff that we need to survive! Sure, stealing's wrong, but that guy over there, look at him, he's got his coffee, hasn't he? Leave him with that wallet much longer he'll just buy himself a sandwich or something, then he'll go off to some shop and buy some other stuff he probably doesn't even need, I bet his cupboards at home are stuffed with food and enough coffee to last him forever! He doesn't need that money, but we do! We're just taking his wallet, Theodore, not his bloody bank account! Come on, be a mate, won't you? It'll be simple."

And quite suddenly, Theodore felt rather silly. Andy was right, the boy mused as he gazed over the road at the cafe, watching the man turn a page of his book. The stranger didn't need the money, but the boys did.

Just like Uncle Augustus hadn't needed the money in his wallet, but Theodore did. That hadn't been so terrible, had it? Theodore hadn't felt bad at all...

"Okay," the boy mumbled, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "I'll do it."

_Just walk along the road, like you're going somewhere, keep your eyes forward. Eyes forward, keep them forward..._

Theodore Beddington shuffled along the street, staring resolutely ahead of him. The nearer he got the the cafe, the more difficult simply walking along became. He found himself with the sudden urge to glance across the street at the other boys to see if they were watching him.

_Don't glance back, you'll look suspicious, eyes ahead, keep looking ahead..._

Theodore failed to resist the urge to glance over his shoulder. All three boys were grinning at him encouragingly. It made Theodore feel guilty, so he looked away again.

He was nearing the man's table. He refused to take the time to look at the man, to see what he looked like up close, he wanted him to stay anonymous. It would be easier that way.

_This is necessary. It needs to be done. People could understand, surely. It wasn't wrong if you needed it..._

He had reached the back of the man's chair. Theodore forced himself to glance to make sure that the man was still reading.

Remus Lupin turned another page of his book.

Theodore drew in a deep breath and held it, slowing his pace ever so slightly, he began to pass the table, focused on the wallet out of the corner of his eye.

His heart was pounding in his ears and he could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck...

He was level with the wallet, it was time, he hastily pulled the hand out from his pocket and, biting his lip in concentration, made a grab for the wallet...

His fingers closed around the smooth leather object and he, feeling himself to be upon the verge of triumph, made to whip his hand back again...

Only to feel a firm hand suddenly enclose around his wrist.

Theodore let out an audible gasp, his whole body tensing in panic. As he began to tremble in anticipation of what might happen to him next, he forced himself to slowly turn around to face the man.

Theodore Beddington stared at his father. And as he gripped hold of his son by the wrist, Remus Lupin stared straight back at him.


	6. Sick

_Note: Thank you for the amazing response to the last chapter! I was so surprised to receive so many emails! _

_This chapter is, admittedly, shorter than the one before, however I just felt it was a nice (or perhaps not nice, depending on your view) place to end._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**6: Sick**

As the child's grip upon his wallet slacked and it fell back down onto the table, Remus Lupin stared at the petrified boy in silence.

Theodore wished that he would let go of his wrist. He thought of attempting to pull himself free, but his terror had rendered him completely immobile. When the stranger seemed unlikely to speak, perhaps he was simply too furious for words, Theodore drew in a deep breath and managed to mumble:

"M...my...my friends...they...they told me...t...to do it."

At last the man released him and broke eye contact to glance around the street searchingly, Theodore felt an odd urge to reach and grab hold of the man's arm in return.

"P...please don't...don't have me...arrested...please."

Having completed his observations of the street around them, the man's gaze returned to the boy with a questioning look, and at long last he spoke.

"Where are these friends of yours, then?"

Theodore turned, raising an arm to point across the street at the boys in question, only to find that they were nowhere to be seen.

"They...they were...right...right there, I swear, I...I..."

The man raised a disbelieving eyebrow, and the small movement caused the child to burst into tears.

A passing woman pushing a buggy stared at them as she passed.

Eying the hysterical child with a resigned sigh, Remus reached with a foot under the table to kick the chair opposite him out from under the table.

"Why don't you sit down?" he asked, closing the book he was holding and setting it down onto the table. As the child simply stared at him blankly, he nodded at the vacant chair encouragingly. "Go on, sit down."

The boy shuffled over and dropped down onto the edge of the seat, and Remus wondered whether or not he was staring at the genuine article or a well practiced little actor. He pocketed his wallet, just in case, musing that life had made him increasingly cynical.

"Where are your parents?" he asked the child, and Theodore mumbled:

"I don't know."

"Where did you last see them?"

"I didn't. I...I've never met them."

The cynic inside him told Remus that this was all terribly convenient, but the notion of a broken family played havoc with the raw emotions that he had spent the past few hours attempting to bury beneath the pages of his book. Despite himself he found himself observing:

"That's terribly sad."

Feeling somewhat put at ease by the stranger's soft tone, Theodore nodded his head in agreement. When neither of them said anything for a long moment, the child supposed he ought make some sort of small talk, so he asked:

"Do...do you have any children?"

Remus reached for his coffee, keen to have something to hide his face in for a moment as he took a slow sip. When he carefully replaced the cup he forced himself to smile at the boy and say:

"No, I don't."

There was a long silence and as the stranger simply stared at him, Theodore fidgeted in his chair.

"I um...I'm...I'm sorry." he mumbled, hands twisting awkwardly in his lap. "I know stealing is wrong, I do, it's just...well...well the other boys, they're hungry..." he trailed off into silence at the sight of the man shaking his head disbelievingly.

"I must say," Remus said, once again reaching for his coffee, "this is all terribly unimaginative. When I was younger we used to come up with far more elaborate stories to cover up our bad behavior, we weren't so awfully predictable."  
"B..but it's true! It's the truth, I swear, they've not eaten in days, they wanted some money so they could buy some lunch..."

"What's your name?"

"Theodore."

_Oh sweet Merlin, you've got to be joking, and it's not even remotely funny..._

Remus swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Well then, Theodore." he said, gripping his coffee mug and attempting not to look so deeply troubled that somewhere, sometime, somebody had given their son the same name that he had given his own. "There are plenty of hungry people in the world, and if they all concluded that stealing was the answer I daresay eventually there would be even more hungry people than to start with."

"What do you suppose they ought do, then?" Theodore asked, and as he stared across the table at the blonde haired boy with the tear stained cheeks, Remus was sure that at any moment he would crack and burst into hysterics of his own.

"I...don't know." the werewolf mumbled uncertainly, attempting to focus on the conversation at hand, trying to recall his life years beforehand when on more than a few occasions he had been forced to skip a meal or two. "We live in a very cruel world. But...but one ought not be afraid to rely on strangers. They can surprise you."

Theodore watched the man reach into his pocket, hands fumbling as he drew out his wallet. The stranger seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry as he observed the contents with a small frown before reaching to draw out a ten pound note.

"Here," Remus said, holding out the money to the boy. "That's all I have."

_All the muggle money, anyway._

Theodore's first thought was that this was a bare faced lie, the wallet had felt much too heavy to contain nothing besides a measly ten pound note, but then again he was in no position to be picky.

"Thank you very much." the boy mumbled, reaching to accept the money.

It was at that precise moment that a loud voice behind the boy made him jump

"THERE YOU ARE!"

As Theodore twisted around to see the speaker, he felt a firm hand grabbing hold of him by the elbow, pulling him to his feet.

"Has my brother been bothering you?" Andy asked the man as he practically dragged Theodore out from behind the table. "God, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off like that? I'm SO sorry! We'll just be going now..."

And with that, before the man could even open his mouth to reply, Theodore found himself being dragged away up the street. He was forced to break into a run to keep up with the teenager, daring a glance back towards the cafe where the man was staring after them...

It was just then that he felt his shoulder collide with something solid, and he stumbled as a woman's voice cried:

"Careful!"

"Sorry..." Theodore mumbled, only for Andy to give his arm a firm tug to get him running again. The two boys raced off down the street and around the corner.

Reaching to rub her arm with a irritated frown, Dora Lupin shook her head as he carried on down the street, face brightening when she came to a halt before her husband, offering him a raised eyebrow.

"Making friends, were you?" she asked cheerfully as she dumped her bag down upon the table and dropped down into Theodore's vacated seat.

"Something like that..." Remus mumbled, gazing past her towards the corner that the two boys had disappeared around.

"Are you going to buy me a coffee, then?" Tonks asked him, reaching into her bag and drawing out a mirror so that she could scrutinize her reflection, reaching to flatten a wayward strand of hair.

"Umm..." Remus blinked before slowly looking down to regard the wallet that he was still holding in his hands. Eying the contents with a small frown he concluded: "No."

"No?" His wife glanced around the mirror in order to offer him a raised eyebrow and a snigger.

"No." he agreed rather lamely, and the pink haired witch frowned, shutting the mirror with a snap.

"Right..." she said, expression suggesting that she seriously doubted his sanity as she reached back into her bag to replace the mirror and retrieve her purse. "I'll get it then, shall I?"

Remus cleared his throat, once again blinking himself out of a haze.

"Sorry," he said, reaching across to grab hold of her by the hand as she made to stand up. "I mean, I can't buy it, I've just given away my last ten pounds, I've no muggle money left."

"You...gave it away?"

"Yes...to that boy who was here, just now."

"Right..." There was a sizable pause as Tonks simply stared at him again, before she finally wondered: "Care to tell me why?"

"He tried to steal my wallet."

"He tried to STEAL your wallet?"

"Yes..."

"Some kid tries to steal your wallet, and so you decide you'll just give him ten pounds?"

"You make it sound stupid..."

"Well yeah, love, that's because it IS stupid! Merlin, no wonder we never get any richer!" She pulled her hand free from his grasp and rose to her feet, purse in hand. She stood fiddling absentmindedly with the purse's zip for a long moment, taking in the werewolf's pale, faraway expression before asking: "Are you alright, Sweetheart? You look like you've seen a boggart."

"I'm fine." Remus assured her, attempting a smile, and the Auror told him:

"I'll get you a fresh cup, okay?"

The short few minutes that it took Tonks to pop into the cafe and return with two mugs of steaming hot coffee was just about enough time for Remus to pull himself together. Or at least manage to remember to smile at her when she sat back down, and to ask her:

"How's work today?"

"All's quiet down in MLE...I'm dying of boredom, Remus. I thought of sneaking back to the Aurors to see if anything interesting was happening, but then I figured I didn't fancy bumping into Harry. I feel...awkward. Which is stupid. I know it's stupid, I know he's not annoyed about the party, I know that. But I just know he feels so sorry for me, I can just imagine, he'd look at me, you know, really look at me and it'd be like...! It would, wouldn't it? Merlin, if I'm like this about Harry, what about Molly? It's just silly of me, really..."

Remus allowed her to mindlessly babble for several long minutes, occasionally remembering to nod so that it looked as though he was listening. Meanwhile, his thoughts drifted back to the blonde haired little boy whose mere name had completely shattered his careful composure.

Merlin, for the boy to be called Theodore, what were the chances?

And what were the chances of the same boy having never known his parents? It was...almost inconceivable.

Physically possible, of course, like a whole raft of strange things. But...

But if something as inconceivable as that could be true...why not...other things...?

Perhaps...maybe...just maybe, in some wild, crazy scenario...

"Remus?"

Technically it wasn't impossible...

"Remus?"

At the sound of his wife's raised voice, the werewolf was brought back to reality with a bump.

"Hmm?"

Tonks leant across the table, eyes scrutinizing as she reached to lay her hand atop of his own.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Of course I am, I'm just...what?" He frowned as she began to mutter to herself under her breath, putting down her coffee mug. When she began to systematically raise fingers, it occurred to him that she appeared to be doing some sort of sum in her head. "What?" he said again as she frowned deeply.

"It's not full moon for...a week." she concluded, reaching across the table to press a hand to his forehead. "You're so pale..."

"I'm tired." he decided, shrugging and leaning back away from her hand.

"Me too, love. I think we need to start going to bed earlier, because six o'clock just isn't early enough! Come on," she reached to catch hold of his other hand, drawing their hands together and gripping them reassuringly. "Tell me what's wrong. What are you thinking?"

Remus sighed heavily as he gripped her hands back, staring into her dark, twinkling eyes.

"I was just thinking..." he admitted, pausing to purse his lips together a little reluctantly. "Have you ever thought...have you ever considered the possibility that...that...that Teddy might not be dead?"

Almost as soon as he had voiced the question, he wished he had never thought such a thing, let alone made the thought verbal. He felt Tonks' grip upon his hands slacken and her eyes widened, her face visibly paling, the pink of her hair seemed suddenly dull. For a long while she simply sat gawping at him, opening and closing her mouth as if she couldn't quite find the words, until she finally managed to choke:

"What?"

"Never mind..." he mumbled hurriedly, grip upon her hands tightening, only for her to wrench herself free of him, chair legs squeaking against concrete as she sat abruptly back in her chair.

"What do you mean, NEVER MIND?" she cried, and he became acutely aware of a number of people turning to stare at the two of them at her raised voice.

"Dora...calm down..."

"No! I won't bloody calm down! Have I ever thought that...that...NO, Remus! No I bloody haven't! That's...that's just..."

"Stupid. I know, I'm sorry, it's completely..."

"SICK! It's sick! He's DEAD! How can you...how can you just...!"

And with that, just like Theodore before her, she burst into hysterical tears.

Remus couldn't help but think that it was turning out to be a rather dreadful day, all things considered. It wasn't often he managed to reduce two people to tears in the space of fifteen minutes...

"I...I didn't mean it like that..." he attempted to reason, it was difficult to think of exactly what to say, what with the numerous passersby who were staring at them, and of course how utterly foolish he felt. "Really, I didn't..."

"Yes you did." Tonks said, one hand coming to cover her mouth as she stared at him through wide, watery eyes. "You did, Remus, I can tell you did...sweet Merlin...!"

As she continued to stare at him, Remus desperately attempted to think of exactly what he was supposed to say.

"I'm sorry," he found himself babbling, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "It's just...I was just thinking...if it was possible..."

"Is it possible that Voldemort had our baby kidnapped in order to...what? Raise him as his own? Play mums and dads with Bellatrix?"

"Well...no..."

"No! Of course bloody not! What other bloody use would he have had for the son of a couple of blood traitor Order members? Our son was MURDERED! How can you even THINK otherwise?"

"Well...I just thought...we don't actually know..."

"Of course we do!"

"The boy just now...he...he got me thinking...you'd never guess, Dora, his name was Theodore..."

"Really? And what? You...you thought...you thought what? That just because some kid has the same name as ours he...he must be the same boy? You think...you think you can just bump into your dead son one afternoon whilst drinking coffee? Are you bloody MAD?"

"Well of course I don't think that! It's just..."

"How can you...I just...I just don't get how...! Do you have any idea how...how messed up that sounds?"

"Dora, listen..."

"Merlin I can't even...can't even...!" Tonks drew in a deep breath, fighting to regain rational thought.

When she rose abruptly to her feet a second later, it made Remus jump.

"What are you doing?" he asked weakly, watching as she snatched up her bag and slung it hastily over her shoulder.

"I don't know..." she choked, raking a distressed hand through her hair, causing it to stick up at odd angles. "I just...I need to get back to work."

And with that, the Auror turned and set off up the street at a hasty, stumbling pace.

Her husband numbly watched her go, mouth hanging dimly open as he silently berated himself for being so utterly thoughtless.

Maybe I need help, he mused wearily to himself just as a shadow fell across the table and an alarmingly cheery voice observed:

"Not your best day, eh love? Can I get you another one?"


	7. The Scorched Cabinet

_Note: It's been such a long time since I updated this story! I'm terribly sorry to those of you who were waiting for an update, I have been so busy with University and completing Meet the Muggles...I do try to update all the stories equally, but when I get towards the end I do tend to get carried away with just the one! _

_I'll be changing the rating of this fic to a T, due to the bad language in this chapter...and later ones perhaps, who knows!_

_Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for my tardiness! So, on with the show..._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, now am I making any profit from this piece of writing. _

**7: The Scorched Cabinet**

"Here we are, then. Home sweet home!"

As the battered door creaked shut behind him, Theodore Beddington stared around the gloomy little room, taking in the grubby blankets in one corner, the numerous cardboard boxes scattered upon the concrete floor and the graffiti scrawled in lurid acid green upon the dirty white washed walls.

"We'd have tidied up a bit if we knew you were coming!" Andy announced happily as he shrugged off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor as he walked further into the room.

"Make yourself at home, then." AJ told the younger boy, reaching to giving him a friendly slap upon the shoulder as he too went to sit down upon the floor, his back up against a wall.

Eying the wires that were hanging from the ceiling, where he supposed a light fitting had been some years previously, Theodore shuffled a little further into the room.

"You look dead tired." Andy observed as Dom dumped the bag that he was carrying at his side and sat down too. "Why don't you have a nap or something? We'll wake you up in time for dinner!"

At the broad smiles that spread across all three of the teenagers' faces at the prospect of dinner as well as the sandwiches that they had scoffed some hours before leading Theodore through the crumbling and derelict housing estate that they were now in the midst of, Theodore felt a swell of happiness at the thought that he had made a difference to their lives, even if it was something so small as a little food, and even if his efforts had been disastrous to say the least. He supposed he had never had anybody truly appreciate him like that before. It felt nice, it was rather like being a little family. A group of brothers. Theodore smiled at the thought as he watched AJ shuffle over to collect up a few of the blankets from the corner, he rather liked the sound of that. And the three teenagers were forever cheerful and jolly, so much so that Theodore doubted even the dull, chilly confides of the derelict building in which they were sheltering could seem gloomy.

But an hour later, when he awoke and found himself curled up upon the cold, hard concrete floor, hugging a few flimsy blankets around his shoulders against the draft from a broken window, his new brothers seemingly nowhere to be seen, Theodore's initial optimism was shaken at the very least. It had grown dark outside, long shadows crept into the sparse room, and the child's imagination began to run away with him, conjuring up scary images and sounds that ought not really be there...

"What you doin'?" a voice shouted from somewhere out in the street outside, causing Theodore to jump, burying his face in his blankets in panic, for he was more than certain that the voice was real. There came a series of muffled shouts, shrieking laughter and scuffling noises before the first voice declared: "Watch yourself, yeah? I mean it, man! I'll gut you, yeah? You see this, innit? I'll stab you with it if you don't fuck off, you get me?"

Theodore gritted his teeth in fear, burying his face deeper into the blankets and suppressing a shudder at the cold wall against his back.

"Come back, Andy, Dom, AJ..."

When Remus Lupin awoke at two o'clock in the morning to find the space in the bed beside him still empty, it took him a long moment to realise just why he had woken up in the first place. His first thought was that the bedroom was much too hot, and so he reached to pull the covers down towards his waist, frowning when he didn't feel much cooler. He reached to push the hair from his eyes, only to find that his hair, and the rest of him for that matter, appeared to be drenched in sweat. And then he remembered the nightmare, the weeping and the sprint up the stairs that seemed to grow long and longer, the bare, empty cradle and the wide open window, a scream upon the draft...

Remus reached to run his hands over his face, pressing his fingers into his eyelids, concentrating on their dull ache, before kicking off the rest of the covers and slowly swinging his legs around to the side of the bed, sitting up with a heavy sigh. He got groggily to his feet, casting a vaguely accusing look at the empty glass and bottle that he had abandoned upon the bedside table, and stumbled towards the bathroom. He couldn't remember the last time that he had resorted to having a shower in the middle of the night, and it was not until some minutes later, when he concluded that it had probably been during the War, that his mind returned to the here and now and he realised his blunder.

He stood under the cold spray of water, staring down at the sodden clothes that he had forgotten to shed with a deep frown.

You're still drunk, a helpful voice from somewhere in the back of his head supplied in explanation.

Come to think of it, he mused as he reached to tug at the soaked material a little curiously, he did feel rather drunk. In fact he was sure that the shower wasn't supposed to look as slanted as it did just then, because if it was he'd have probably refused to pay that builder who installed it some five years ago...or was it six years? Maybe even seven, didn't time fly? Fascinating, that...

Merlin...he wasn't supposed to be this drunk. It all seemed rather unfair, he hadn't drunk all that much, had he?

His mind searched through the fuzzy confides of his brain in search of an explanation, coming to rest upon the empty bottle of fire whiskey back in the bedroom. He tried to remember how full the bottle had been when he had arrived home the previous afternoon, but couldn't quite decide.

But he really couldn't be this drunk, he really couldn't. He probably had some serious grovelling to do in the morning, and he wasn't about to do that with a raging hangover, absolutely not...

He should probably get out of the shower, drink a gallon of water and try and find one of those miracle potions that Dora kept in the back of one of the kitchen cupboards...he didn't remember which one...

The cold bathroom tiles felt nice against his back. He leant back against them and closed his eyes, reaching to press his palms against the smooth surface, before he found himself sliding down the wall towards the floor.

It was odd, he mused vaguely as the cold water continued to rain down upon him, how comfortable sitting in a shower could be...

Bit chilly, though...

Nice sort of chilly...

The bathroom door swung abruptly open, and his eyes snapped open at the sound. He caught sight of a blurry red figure standing in the doorway before his eyes were stung by the falling water and he resorted to clamping his hands over his face.

"Remus it's nearly three o'clock in the bloody morning, what in Merlin's name are you..." Dora's voice began, only to stop abruptly at the sight of him.  
There was a long silence, disturbed only by the gentle hiss of water from the shower. Rubbing the water from his eyes, Remus ducked his head against the waterfall so that he could peer over at her. He took a moment to notice that he had forgotten to pull the shower door shut behind him, and that the bathroom floor was utterly drenched, before deciding that really, he owed his wife an explanation of some form or another.

"I um..." he struggled to come up with something to say and, after watching her eyes widen in horror at the drenched wooden floor, settled on: "I'm drunk."

"Yeah..." Tonks agreed, nodding her head slowly as if contemplating some sort of deeper meaning to the statement, and then she reached to pull the boots from her feet, tossing them out onto the landing. She calmly removed her socks, too, before picking her way across the sodden room. She reached to turn off the shower, and as silence descended upon the bathroom, she peered down at him with pursed lips.

"Um..." he mumbled again, eying the buttons upon his shirt rather guiltily at her scrutiny in an attempt to think of something conversational to say. "You're...you're home late."

"Get up."

"Right..."

He dragged himself back onto his feet and stepped gingerly out of the shower, feeling his face bloom with colour as she reached to unbutton his shirt.

"You're bloody freezing." she muttered disapprovingly as she pulled the garment from his shoulders a moment later, tossing it onto the floor. "How long were you sitting there for?"

"Um...a while, I think."

"Any particular reason why you thought getting completely wasted would be a good idea?"

As she threw a towel around his shoulders and he fumbled with the zip of his trousers, he admitted:

"I don't really remember...maybe...maybe I thought I'd be more sane this way."

Tonks sighed heavily, taking a step back to watch him struggle with the trousers that seemed to have become glued to his legs, deciding:

"I'll get you a glass of water. Dry off and get into bed, okay?"

"I should probably...you know...clean this up first..."

"You've done enough damage in here as it is, cheers love. Just go to bed."

_Oh dear_, Remus mused as she disappeared out the door and down the stairs. He couldn't help but feel that she was somewhat unimpressed. As he finally won his battle against the trousers and set about drying himself with the towel, he contemplated the fact that taking a shower this late at night had been quite possibly the worst decision that he had ever made.

Actually, getting so hideously drunk had probably been unwise too...

When he awoke the next morning with a headache so bad that he briefly contemplated severing the offending body part from the rest of his body entirely, he stared up at the bedroom ceiling and asked the world at large:

"Why?"

Why on earth had he been that stupid? He hadn't gotten that drunk since that night at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, when Tonks had failed to show at three consecutive Order meetings after they had first had that awful conversation, about the fact that he thought the two of them dating was a foolish and all together silly idea.

He'd never used the word silly to describe Tonks in a sentence since.

"It's a good question." Tonks murmured from beside him, and he slowly turned to see her perched upon the edge of the bed, already dressed to return to work, leaning forward as she tied up the long laces of her boots.

"Time?" he mumbled, too groggy to construct a full sentence as his gaze returned to the ceiling, and she supplied:

"Twenty past six."

"Sweet Merlin...you've only been home..." he attempted to do the maths but failed, instead settling on: "a little while."

"Yeah well, it's all kicking off down in MLE."

"What's happened?"

Laces finally securely tied in tight double knots, Tonks got heavily to her feet, reaching to straighten her scarlet Auror robes as she turned to face him, expression distinctly weary as she informed him:

"They seem to be under the impression that somebody's about to steal the Scorched Cabinet."

"The what?" Remus asked, eyes drifting closed against his throbbing headache, and he heard her sigh irritably.

"Didn't you ever listen in History of Magic?" she asked irritably, and he frowned into the backs of his eyelids.

"Are you telling me you _did_?"

Apparently this only irritated her further, for he heard her footsteps heading for the bedroom door and he snapped his eyes back open when she called:

"See you later then."

It did not escape his notice that she did not bother to kiss him goodbye.

Some two hours later back in London, Theodore awoke to the smell of cheese and onion crisps.

"Breakfast!" AJ announced cheerily as he dangled the packet in front of the younger boy's face. "Come on, Theodore, rise and shine! We're going out for the day!"

Theodore carefully reached to push himself into a sitting position, his back aching in protest from sleeping upon the hard concrete floor.

"Where are we going?" he asked, accepting the crisps with one hand and reaching to rub the sleep from his eyes with the other. Stifling a big yawn, he looked over to see Andy crouched in the opposite corner, stuffing things into a large rucksack.

"We're going to the British Museum." AJ informed him cheerfully, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a packet of crisps for himself. "Andy wants to show you something really cool."

"What's that?" Theodore wondered, his spirits instantly lifted at the idea, he had never visited a museum before, let alone one of the big ones in London.

"Oh your going to really like it." AJ announced with a grin as Dom joined Andy in the corner with a second rucksack. "We thought you'd like to see some magic stuff, you know? It's this really old magical artifact from Medieval times, the muggles don't even know it's magical but they've had it for years." Stuffing a generous handful of crisps into his mouth, the teenager paused to crunch upon them for a moment before adding: "It's called the Scorched Cabinet."


	8. The British Museum

_Note: I have little to say besides I am deeply sorry for not updating and that writers' block is an evil, evil thing! This chapter is dedicated to anybody who guilt-tripped me into continuing this story! Congratulations, you made me feel suitably wretched to actually doing some more writing! I don't suppose any chapter could be worth such an absurdly long wait, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**8: The British Museum**

"Ta-dah! What d'you reckon, guys?"

As the other boys murmured enthusiastic approval at Andy's apparent stroke of genius, Theodore stared down at himself with a deep frown.

"I still don't really understand why I have to go to the museum in disguise." he admitted quietly as Andy positively beamed at him.

"Like AJ said," Andy reminded him, reaching to dust a spec of dirt off of Theodore's new attire, "they don't like unaccompanied groups of kids wandering around the museum! So, Theodore, you're going to be our accompanying adult!"

Theodore glanced down at himself again, still rather bemused. He had never used his gift to make himself look older before, indeed it felt rather strange to be so tall and he hadn't been expecting to grow a beard for several years yet, it felt rather prickly...

It was sort of fun though, dressing up in adult's clothes and being in disguise. Indeed he couldn't help but feel that his first trip to a museum would be all the more fun and exciting because of it.

"Right, come along then, _Dad_!" AJ announced, grinning broadly. "Let's go take a look at that cabinet!"

The British Museum was without doubt the most wonderful and exciting place that Theodore had ever seen in his whole entire life. As the boys led him through the enormous, grand rooms full of glass cabinets containing countless wonders, he didn't quite know where to look first.

"Can't we stop and look at things?" he asked hopefully, only for Dom to reach to tug upon his arm and tell him:

"Nah, this stuff's dead boring, it's the Scorched Cabinet you want to see, it's AMAZING!"

They walked through room after room, up an elaborate marble staircase and down a long corridor until they reached a small side room within which a single object was set upon a plinth in the very middle of the room.

"That's it!" Andy announced excitedly, practically skipping across the room towards it, his footfalls echoing upon the cold stone floor. "That's the Scorched Cabinet!"

Theodore hurried eagerly forward to get a closer look, only to feel somewhat underwhelmed by what he saw.

Having seen glittering jewels, elaborately carved statues, ancient mummified bodies and all sorts of amazing spectacles since they had first stepped through the museum's doors, he had been expecting something utterly phenomenal...

There were a number of words that one could use to describe the Scorched Cabinet, and Theodore was certain that phenomenal wasn't one of them. For one thing, it was small enough that the young boy couldn't help but think that calling it a cabinet was rather stretching the definition of the word somewhat. The scorched part was certainly more accurate, however. Indeed the sorry looking object was so scorched that it appeared to be little more than a blackened lump of ancient looking wood, it's only semblance of glamor being a couple of shiny golden handles upon it's doors that, to Theodore's mind, looked rather out of place.

"Wow..." he mumbled, trying his very best to sound excited, and he was quite glad when the others simply clustered around the plinth, apparently not paying him much attention. He stood back, watching in confusion as Andy, Dom and AJ stood, peering intently at the cabinet, murmuring excitedly to one another. After a while, AJ turned to grin broadly at the tall man behind them as he asked:

"So, what d'you think, Thedore?"

Theodore sucked in a deep breath, eying the cabinet again in an attempt to think of something suitably awed to say.

"Um..."

"You know," Andy said, as he and Dom turned their backs upon the cabinet to look at Theodore too. "This cabinet is worth an absolute FORTUNE!"

AJ and Dom nodded their heads in agreement, and quite suddenly Theodore felt his mouth go dry at the distinctly expectant look that was appearing upon the trio's faces.

"It...it is?" he mumbled, shuffling backwards a step...

_They don't want to steal it_, he told himself firmly, _of course they don't, we're in a museum full of security guards and cameras and...of course they don't, that would be silly..._

"Yep," Dom was saying, folding his arms across his chest and offering the boy a raised eyebrow. "Set you up for life, selling something like this!"

Theodore gave a nervous chuckle.

"Well...well that's why it's here, isn't it? It's in a museum because it's so old and...and valuable..."

"But that's the thing though, isn't it Theodore?" Andy exclaimed, eyes widening a little in emphasis. "That's the thing! It shouldn't be here! It shouldn't be in a muggle museum, should it?"

"Shouldn't it?" Theodore murmured, chewing rather worriedly upon his bottom lip. He wasn't quite sure what was so wrong with the cabinet being in a muggle museum, after all surely if there was something wrong with it somebody would have done something about it by now...

"Of course it shouldn't!" Andy cried, drawing himself up to his full height, one hand balling into a tight fist. "Of course it shouldn't be left with the muggles! Why should they have it when it belongs to us? Theodore, people like us, magical people, they've been wanting this back for YEARS!"

Theodore glanced doubtfully over at the cabinet, brow creased worriedly.

"But...but then why hasn't somebody...well..."

"Because nobody has the GUTS! Nobody's got the guts to stand up for what's rightfully ours! Except for us, eh? We've got guts, haven't we Theodore?"

"Um..."

"Well? Haven't we?"

"I...I suppose..."

"Excellent! I told you we could rely on him, didn't I, Dom? Now, listen up, this is what we're going to do..."

"Alright boys and girls, listen up! This is what we're going to do..."

As MLE Commander Bernard Wattle began to drone on and on about whatever it was that he had planned for the morning, Dora Lupin continued to stare vacantly at a spot just above his balding and unnaturally shiny head.

Quite frankly, he had lost her at _boys and girls_.

Whatever happened to the good old days of _shut up and listen you lazy bastards?_ That cheery demand had probably died along with Mad-Eye, Dora mused, but it might be terribly amusing to reintroduce it into everyday use, especially when faced with the idiotic staff of MLE.

It wasn't that the Deputy Head of Aurors had anything against the MLE officers or indeed any other members of their staff, she had long since had her Auror's natural sense of superiority berated out of her by both Mad-Eye and Kingsley almost as soon as she had first qualified. In fact she admired the people who staffed the MLE department as much as she did the Aurors, because after all they did valuable work...

It was just that they also happened to be a bunch of complete and utter morons.

Especially when she had better things preoccupying her mind than their silly little excursion to the British Museum...

Not better things. That implied they were in some way pleasant. No, they were simply...more pressing. Indeed, it was difficult for one to think of a matter more pressing than the fact that your husband appeared to be in the middle of a very delayed mental breakdown of one form of another. Especially when your reaction had been far from helpful because the sight of him crumbling merely made you fall to pieces yourself.

Dora puffed her cheeks in exasperation, only to plaster a suitably attentive expression upon her face when Wattle paused in his rambling to look at her questioningly.

"Problem?" he inquired rather icily as he peered down his nose at her, and the Auror offered him a raised eyebrow and the most charming smile she could muster as she wondered:

"Is there?"

_Bitter old bastard_, she thought to herself as he grunted and went back to his rambling. He didn't want her here, he had made that startlingly clear. It was as if having her invade his department for a few days was in some way a threat to his authority...which it was, she supposed, because being a Deputy Head of a department put her high above him in the authority stakes to say the least.

_Be nice to him_, Kingsley had instructed some days previously when she had arrived in his office so that he could hand over all of the paperwork for her to look at. _Don't go lording it over him and don't piss him off just for fun. I know it's tempting, but you're there to offer advice, not undermine him in front of his staff_. _I don't want to have him barging into my office to tell me you've been doing an Umbridge! _

Dora had wanted to point out that she had never,_ done an Umbridge_ as they all liked to call it, in her whole entire life. But it had been all the more satisfying to smile sweetly and give an exaggerated: _hem hem! _Especially when it had earned her a: _Get out of my office, Tonks_, because she'd arrived home a full ten minutes earlier than usual, which had meant she could spend ten extra minutes complaining to Remus about how crap work was.

Remus. Sweet Merlin...what was she going to do about Remus? In the past hour she had gone as far as to think of counseling, only she knew full well that if she were to suggest such a thing he would probably laugh at her. They both had, she recalled, when it had been offered to them along with the rest of the Order and Merlin knew who else after the War. _I didn't get any after the first war_, Remus had pointed out dismissively, _and I managed perfectly fine then. I'll do it again. _

Dora had always thought they'd coped very well given the circumstances. Their marriage hadn't fallen to pieces, they hadn't had too much of a problem talking about what had happened and they were perfectly capable of taking turns to be the Strong One and the One Who Can't Stop Crying. And over the years the wounds had started to heal into scars that they could hide easily under smiles and laughter...

But apparently she had been wrong. Apparently they hadn't healed quite as convincingly as she had first thought. It was a painful realisation and she had the distinct feeling that somewhere along the line they had gotten it all wrong, that perhaps they hadn't talked about it enough, perhaps they hadn't moved on enough, perhaps...perhaps they should have had another baby after all...

Or they could have bought a cat. A dog. Something to...fill the void...except that just sounded terrible, replacing a dead child with a pet...

It wasn't an uncommon thing to do though. After her dad had died her mother had bought a Kneazle. A bizarre choice, Dora had always thought, because Andromeda had never much liked animals of the feline persuasion, they left hair all over the carpet and made her sneeze.

The most worrying thing, Dora mused, had been the previous night when she had arrived home to find Remus half passed out in the shower from downing their supply of Fire Whiskey that usually lasted them at least two months. Quite frankly she'd wanted to hex him for starling her so terribly, but by now she simply wanted to hug him tightly and demand he never do such a thing again.

She'd been quite fond of drinking when she had been younger, back before the War, and to be fair she and Remus had both gotten themselves more than a little tipsy on occasion with Sirius at Headquarters. But after several months of watching Sirius drown his sorrows night after night, alcohol had rather lost it's sense of fun and had instead come to symbolize little more than a slow and inebriated plummet to rock bottom. Neither Dora or Remus drank much at all these days, except for the odd glass in the evening whilst listening to the wireless or perhaps just a couple too many when friends came round to visit.

They certainly didn't get utterly wasted enough to take showers fully clothed whilst flooding the bathroom. Dora had tried to tell herself that the scene had in many ways been rather amusing, but the fact of the matter was she was far from amused. She was deeply, deeply concerned...

What to do...what to do...

She turned the situation over and over in her mind and was about to try to come to some sort of conclusion when she was jolted back to reality by the sound of movement around her.

Apparently the MLE morons were all set and ready to go.

"So you're going in first, then?" a rather nervous looking wizard in his forties murmured to her as they turned and headed for the door. "Since this is..._more your area_?"

Dora failed to suppress a small sigh of irritation. She wanted to explain that she hadn't suffered three years of Mad-Eye Moody putting her through her paces to be deemed qualified enough to run around after a bunch of unruly school children, but instead she forced herself to nod and mumble:

"Apparently so."

The man looked positively relieved at her unenthusiastic agreement and he told her:

"I must say it was very wise of Minister Shacklebolt to lend you to us for the week! Only yesterday, I was saying to Nicholas Hooper over there, when there's such evil intent in a case like this one, we can really use the support of the Auror Department! These Dark Wizards, you know, they're not like other criminals!"

Dora was forced to bite her tongue. As she reached to pull open the door and led the way out into the corridor beyond, she consented to muttering:

"No...they're really not."

Theodore Beddington stood in the eerily quiet room, gaze fixated upon the Scorched Cabinet in front of him.

It was going to be easy, they'd said. Dead easy, all he had to do was pick it up and make a run for the door. Don't worry about the muggle security, they'd deal with it, it was going to be simple...

It was necessary, they'd said. It was important. It was a public service. People were going to thank them for it.

Yes, Andy had admitted, stealing was wrong. But this wasn't really stealing. It was the muggles who had done the stealing, they were simply taking back what was rightfully theirs.

His stomach had twisted into an uncomfortable knot, just as it had done back in Victoria Street when he'd attempted to take that man's wallet. Except it was worse, tighter, because this was so much bigger, so much worse...

Besides, he still didn't really understand what was so special about the Scorched Cabinet. He'd wanted to ask Andy, but had been afraid he might start shouting and ranting about how important it was again, which only made Theodore feel rather intimidated.

This whole place was intimidating, with it's vast ceilings and tall walls, elaborate pillars. Theodore's earlier wonder had become somewhat lost. He just wanted to leave.

Just take it, he thought desperately as he glanced over his shoulder to find that the others had disappeared off to "deal" with security (something to do with a bagful of tricks that Dom had proudly waved under his nose some ten minutes earlier). Just take it and run, it'll all be over before you know it...

He reached to wipe the sweat from his to0-large palms upon the front of his dark trousers, chewing nervously upon his lip as he looked down at himself again. Being in disguise hadn't been fun for as long as he had expected, because it had soon become apparent that the staff at the British Museum were not terribly fussed about unaccompanied teenagers...

It was just that adults were tall enough to easily reach the cabinet.

Theodore felt silly. Utterly stupid...but he didn't really feel as though he had much of a choice. What would Andy, Dom and AJ have to say if he were to let them down? After they had taken him in, fed him, looked after him...

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

Just take it. Take it and run. The sooner you take it, the sooner it will all be over...

He drew in a deep, steadying breath, rocking back upon his heels for a moment before chancing one last glance around him.

He was entirely alone.

And so it was that Theodore Beddington reached forward to place his hands upon the Scorched Cabinet, and at that precise moment there came a series of loud cracks that very nearly made him jump out of his skin.

People were appearing out of nowhere, dressed in long royal blue robes and clutching strange looking sticks in their hands and Theodore thought he might very well faint in terror as a woman dressed in scarlet robes with hair a vivid shade of pink stepped forward from the crowd, stick pointing threateningly at him as she announced sharply:

"MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT! STEP AWAY FROM THE CABINET AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!"

Theodore Beddington stared at his mother, utterly paralyzed with fear, and as she advanced on her son, wand trained impatiently upon the gangly man's chest, Dora Lupin stared straight back at him.

"I said hands in the air!" she snapped, giving her wand a meaningful little flick, musing to herself that if this scrawny looking individual was the next Dolohov she'd eat Augusta Longbottom's stuffed vulture hat.

Theodore took a petrified little step backwards and slowly raised his trembling hands in the air. And as he continued to stare at his mother, he couldn't quite help but burst into terrified tears.

Dora observed his hysterical sobbing with little more than a raised eyebrow as she stepped forward to lay a firm hand upon his arm.

"Dark wizard, my arse!" Theodore heard her mutter in a distinctly bad-tempered tone under her breath, and he hastily screwed his eyes shut against her gaze upon him, for he had never met somebody whom he had felt more frightened of in his whole entire life.


	9. At The Ministry

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**9: At the Ministry**

As she reached to fling open the door to her office, stomping across the threshold and tossing the file full of parchment in the vague direction of her desk, ignoring the fact that it missed its target by a good few feet, spilling papers out onto the floor, Dora Lupin glanced over at the clock upon the wall and silently congratulated herself on a job well done. She had managed to frog march her hysterical captive down to the holding cells and abandon him with the rather bemused looking member of security in record time. She hadn't waited for the Security Wizard to request the sobbing man's name for a fifth time, because quite frankly she didn't feel responsible for him anymore, and had decided to retreat to the safety of her office because it might take the MLE morons at least ten extra minutes to track her down.

"You've scared him half to bloody death!" the security wizard had complained as his new charge slumped back against the nearest wall, seemingly still unable to utter his own name, let alone a coherent sentence, but the Deputy Head of Aurors had merely shrugged and muttered:

"Wasn't me."

In all honesty, Dora mused to herself as she collapsed down into the chair behind her desk, gaze wandering towards the ceiling as she yawned widely, given how irritating the whole morning's events had been she had rather hoped that they might turn out to be vaguely interesting, that she might have appeared down at the holding cells with somebody who at least looked as though they should be there.

Not just some wimpish sobbing wreck who had caused such a scene that every person they passed in the Atrium had turned to stare at them, and not at all in the Good Job You've Done There Tonks sort of way. Indeed, when she had dragged the sorry excuse for a man out of the lift a while later, she could have sworn she'd heard Unspeakable Tiffany Pucket mutter to her colleague Lennon Burtfield: _Poor soul_!

Dora had felt incredibly irritated that she had been forced to spend her morning capturing someone so utterly pathetic and boring. At this realisation she found herself smiling uncertainly up at the ceiling because she couldn't help but feel that this thirst for a decent arrest made her a _bloody decent Auror_, as Mad-Eye would have put it. But it probably made her a bit of a heartless bitch too because after all it was a human being she had been dealing with and not just a job given to her at work.

Being a heartless bitch did have its merits, however, when one was having the sort of day that Dora Lupin was having. It meant she could lounge around in her office without feeling too guilty that the MLE morons were probably waiting for her to return to them, and it meant that she didn't care enough to sit wondering whether or not the poor soul down in the holding cells had stopped sobbing his heart out yet.

It meant she could concentrate on doing something that was to her mind far more important:

Checking up on her husband. Because whilst she didn't much care what the Security Wizard back downstairs thought of her, Dora didn't much care to have Remus think of her as a heartless bitch in the slightest.

The Deputy Head of Aurors slid out of her chair and went to snatch a handful of floo powder out of the pot upon the narrow mantlepiece, before stooping to toss it into the empty grate. As she stuck her head into the emerald flames, muttering her destination, she wondered quite what she planned on saying, and settled on something suitably mundane. That way he wouldn't know she was checking up on him...

She found the sitting room empty, and was forced to shout for Remus at the top of her lungs. She was just beginning to think that he had perhaps gone out when at long last he stumbled into the room, still dressed in his crumpled pyjamas.

"Did I wake you up?" she asked incredulously as he dropped down onto the sofa opposite the fireplace. There was a sizable pause before he mumbled:

"No..."

"Liar." she muttered, eying him warily. "Well you best get up, hadn't you? I want a cup of coffee."

"Again?" Remus murmured, sounding painfully apprehensive at the notion, and she forced herself to grin and tell him:

"Either that or I bunk off work for the entire afternoon and get half a dozen howlers each from Kingsley and Harry. What d'you think?"

The werewolf considered his options for a long moment, reaching to rub wearily at his eyes before he consented to telling her:

"I think we're going to meet for coffee."

"Good!" Dora told him brightly. "You can buy me some cake! I want...a muffin. With chocolate chips."

"Right..."

"Or maybe a doughnut. With pink icing...and sprinkles. Or both. Yeah, I want both. A muffin and a doughnut."

"Right..."

"If you're lucky I might let you have some."

Remus' nose wrinkled at this suggestion, the thought of so much sugar making his stomach churn.

"Or maybe I won't." Dora decided, sniggering at him. When his smile in return was far less than half-hearted, she sobered and told him: "We'll try again, eh love? We'll...have a nice chat...decide what colour to paint the kitchen or something..."

"Mm..."

"And I'll wipe that miserable look off your face. I'll snog it off of you if I bloody have to, I don't care if it'll make the muggle pensioners blush into their coffee cups."

Dora was pleased to see this final threat coax a true smile onto his lips at last and a huff of amusement escaped his lungs.

"I'll look forward to it then." he told her, eyebrow arching in amusement. "Same time and place as usual, then?"

"Yep!" she beamed, very pleased with her efforts indeed. "Anyway I best go, the morons back in MLE will be waiting for me."

"Did you catch anybody taking the...cabinet thing?" Remus wondered, leaning back in his chair and stifling a yawn into his sleeve.

His wife rolled her eyes.

"Oh yes...you should have seen this bloke, love...I've seen bunny rabbits more likely to have evil intentions than him!"

"But he _was_ trying to take the cabinet?" Remus clarified, sounding irritatingly smug on MLE's behalf.

"Shut up, Remus." Dora instructed briskly, though she was secretly pleased that he felt up to smirking at her. "Coffee, muffin, doughnut, alright?"

"Alright."

"I love you." she added, and he had barely murmured a similar sentiment before she had reached to pull her head from the floo.

It all felt a bit like a dream. A nightmare. The most terrible of nightmares that he seemed incapable of waking from...

Theodore Beddington screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in his too-large hands.

As nightmares went the last half an hour had been both terribly vivid and yet horribly vague. Indeed when he had suddenly found himself disappearing from the British Museum and reappearing in a street of some kind, before being marched this way and that and somehow finding himself inside a vast, crowded chamber full of oddly dressed people who kept staring at him as he sobbed helplessly, the young boy was not entirely sure how he had gotten there in the first place. The only constant, clear thing that he could remember when he had been bundled into a lift, jolted this way and that until he had finally arrived at his current location, was the pink haired woman's firm hand upon his elbow. After a while the steady pressure upon his arm had stopped petrifying him and had instead been a strange, reassuring presence through the whirlwind of movement and confusion...

And then suddenly it had been gone. He'd been deposited in front of a desk, behind which was sat a tall, burly looking man in his late twenties who had grunted:

"Mornin' Tonks."

And the pink haired woman, Tonks apparently, had offered the man a vague nod in return and instructed:

"Stick him somewhere, Duncan, somebody'll be down to see him later."

Duncan had fumbled around with some papers of some sort, Theodore hadn't gotten much of a look at them because he had been much too busy crying, and then Tonks had simply turned to stride off back down the corridor, only to pause when Duncan protested:

"You'll need to sign his forms!"

"I'll do it later." the woman had muttered, waving a dismissive hand that had made Theodore feel quite bemused, for surely the whole situation was far too mortifying and terrible for such a casual gesture. Apparently Duncan had agreed because he had complained:

"Ministry procedure guidelines state..."

"Nobody gives a toss about the Ministry Procedure Guidelines. Not when I've got a million and one other things to get done. Somebody else can do it when they come down to see him." Tonks had pointed out, which seemed to irritate Duncan somewhat as he reached to snatch up a feather quill (yes, not a biro or even a fountain pen, but a FEATHER QUILL!).

"Well at least tell me his bloody name!"

"He's got a tongue, hasn't he?" Tonks had muttered impatiently, and then the questions had started.

"Name?"

Theodore had simply stared at Duncan, the tears still streaming down his cheeks as the man had repeated the question.

"Name, please?"

Tonks' footsteps began to fade away down the narrow corridor behind him, and Theodore had felt his limbs weakening, his panic renewed afresh as he gazed blankly at the man, fresh sobs rising in his throat.

Duncan had sighed heavily. He seemed to find Theodore's misery very boring indeed.

"For the purposes of Ministry records you are required to submit to me your full name and date of birth." he informed the trembling man stood in front of him, but Theodore had slumped against the nearest wall and sobbed harder than ever.

Eventually Duncan had given up questioning him.

That had been when Theodore had found himself ushered into the dark, cramped cell that he was sat in now. He'd promptly curled up upon the floor in the corner, waiting to wake up.

He'd been lying there for what felt like hours. The floor beneath him was hard and cold and no matter how he tried Theodore could not seem to be able to stop himself from trembling.

It was not until he reached to bury his face further into his arms, fingers grasping fistfuls of long, blonde hair in agitation that he realised he had dropped his morph. The clothes he was wearing had grown big and baggy now he had shrunk back down to his usual size, and he pulled them more tightly around him in an attempt to shield himself from the darkness.

After what seemed like forever, footsteps sounded outside of the cell and Theodore buried his face further into his too-large jumper, screwing his eyes tightly shut and willing himself to wake up...

_Wake up, wake up..._

"This is him." Duncan's voice grunted.

_Wake up, wake up...please wake up..._

"What...this one?"

_Please wake up..._

"Yeah, that's...hang on a second!"

_Wake up, wake up..._

"Who the bloody hell is that?"

"That's not him. That's...that's not who I put in here! He...he was a tall chap, in his twenties or so..."

_Any second now, wake up..._

"What've you got a kid locked up down here for?"

"I...I didn't lock a kid up, he...he wasn't a kid!"

_Wake up, wake up, wake up..._

"Somebody get Tonks back down here! There's something fishy going on!"

"I swear, I...I didn't hear anything or..."

"Go and get Tonks!"

_Wake up..._

"I'm not going to find her, she's in a crap mood, I don't want my head bitten off..."

"She'll be in a even more crap mood once she gets a look at this! NOW GO AND GET HER!"

As she stood in the lift, sandwiched awkwardly in between MLE Moron One and MLE Moron Two, the two of whom had burst into her office some minutes earlier and startled her into splashing scalding hot coffee down the front of her Auror robes, Dora Lupin positively scowled at the man who had just stepped into the lift in front of them.

"Alright, Tonks?" Head of Aurors Harry Potter murmured automatically as the lift doors clicked shut behind him. One glance at his colleague's face that was something akin to thunder made him add: "Apparently not..."

"Next time I wish the person I've arrested could be a bit more interesting," Dora muttered, folding her arms across her chest and scowling at the strong smell of coffee that still lingered upon them, "Obliviate me!"

"Fun and games in MLE?" Harry observed cheerfully, and Dora offered him a smile that was so transparent that she might very well not have bothered with it at all.

"Thanks to you and Kingsley I've gone and arrested a polyjuiced minor for attempted theft of a priceless magical artifact that was in muggle possession...do you have any idea how much bloody paperwork that's going to give me? Everybody's going to get all silly and cautious about it because we'll end up dealing with muggles, AND we've arrested a kid, so we'll have to put up with all the ridiculous regulations there are for arresting a minor, and THEN they'll want to know where he got the bloody potion from, so I'll probably get memos about that for bloody weeks, AND THEN we'll have to deal with his parents going mental when I tell them he'll probably be expelled from Hogwarts! _Easy stint down in MLE_ my arse!"

Harry shifted his feet rather guiltily.

"Oh..." he mumbled, eying his shoes with a deep frown.

"Yes, oh!" the scarlet haired witch agreed, and the two morons either side of her looked mildly offended that she seemed to think all of this such a poor use of her time, after all this was the sort of thing they did every day.

But that was precisely the thing, Dora thought irritably as the lift continued its descent. She hadn't arrested a minor since...well, Merlin knew when! She didn't deal with children, they weren't nearly evil enough for her usual line of work, and she rarely had to faff around searching for dodgy potion suppliers.

"What's Remus doing today?" Harry asked brightly, more than keen to change the subject, and the werewolf's wife frowned deeply. She was pretty sure Remus wouldn't care to have Harry know he was quite possibly nursing his worst hangover since the late 60's, so she decided it was probably best to lie.

"He's...helping Mum with some stuff." she decided vaguely with a shrug, before adding: "In her garden." That sounded believable, she supposed, after all her mother was obsessed with having the best kept lawn in the whole of South East England, as was evident from Harry's low whistle as the doors slid open again behind him.

"Poor man!" the Head of Aurors grinned, and Dora was quite pleased with the way the whole conversation had gone overall, since she dreaded bumping into him at times like these just in case he chose to shun normality in favour of overwhelming sympathy that made her cringe, or worse snap at him to let her grieve in peace.

She didn't escape entirely sympathy-free, however, for Harry paused, midway through turning to step out into the corridor. Reaching to lay a hand upon her arm, green-eyed gaze very nearly making her look down at her shoes, the dark haired wizard suggested:

"The pair of you ought come for tea this evening, you know. Ginny's making apple crumble."

Dora plastered a wide smile onto her face, feeling an inevitable sinking feeling in her chest. It was inevitable, there was no doubt about it. There had never been a chance that Harry and the others would have given up at cheering the grieving parents after one failed party. They were going to try again.

And again, and again...

Dora supposed she might as well get it over and done with, drag Remus over there after work and the two of them could play at being happy, well-adjusted individuals who weren't drinking themselves into oblivion, becoming disillusioned and bad-tempered with anybody who crossed their path, or suddenly desperate to raise the dead. The better they played, the sooner everybody else would be satisfied that all was well. Until next year, of course...

"That'd be lovely, Harry." Dora found herself saying. She managed to sound almost enthusiastic, which Harry seemed mercifully happy with because he at last withdrew his hand from her arm and stepped out of the lift, telling her:

"I'll see you later, then!"

Dora endeavored not to let the almost-cheerful expression to leave her face as the lift continued it's descent down to the holding cells. After all, she'd scared her captive half to death once already that day, she didn't want to do the same again now, even if she was in a bad mood.

Merlin, she thought as she stepped out of the lift and strode down the corridor towards Duncan's desk, the boy must have been petrified to be dragged down here like he had been and thrown in a cell. Indeed, he was probably still just as frightened now. She wondered who precisely he was, and indeed what sort of person would land a young boy in such a dreadful situation in the first place. She'd rather like to hex whoever was responsible, in fact she probably would do once she had tracked them down.

As she approached the desk she allowed her pace to slow to a casual wander, as if she were on a coffee break of some sort and was merely coming down for a chat. Leaning her elbows upon the desk she looked down at Duncan and offered him the brightest smile she could muster. Practice for when she talked to the boy. Smiling helped to put people at ease.

Duncan didn't appear to be put at ease in the slightest, indeed her startling chance in demeanor appeared to have him on edge, as if she were attempting to trick him into some false sense of security, ready to pounce and scream furiously at him for disturbing her.

"He's in there." he informed her bluntly, not at all convinced when she straightened up, turning to look over at the cell door in question.

"Cool." she said, and with that she reached to snatch up the papers in front of him and his quill. He did not bother to protest as she sauntered over to the cell door, leaning to peer through the bars into the dim room beyond. There, curled up in the far corner, huddled under an assortment of too-large garments and visibly shaking like a leaf was a boy whose age she suspected was not long into double figures. A pair of dark, watery eyes peered over at her through the gaps between his fingers and his head was adorned with a mass of golden curls. What she could see of his face was pink from his sobbing and Dora couldn't help but feel as though if he were to sprout wings he might very well pass as a cherub in a particularly elaborate shop window display for Valentine's Day.

The tearful cherub continued to stare at her with wide eyes as she reached to draw the wand from her pocket, unlocking the door with a couple of vague waves.

Theodore watched his captor push the door open and step carefully inside. As the door swung shut behind her with a loud clang, the boy felt his heart begin to race in his chest as she advanced on him, sheaf of papers clasped purposefully in her hand. He had the dreadful feeling that he was about to be asked a whole raft of questions again, except this time it would be so much worse, so very dreadful because Tonks didn't look anything like as bored as Duncan had been, and Theodore knew perfectly well just how loudly she could shout. Theodore didn't like being shouted at, not one bit...

She was advancing on him now, footsteps loud and echoing in the sparse little cell and with every step Theodore could feel the tears gathering in his eyes again, the sobs rising in his throat. Before he could think to sit up or perhaps even jump to his feet she had come to a halt in front of him. He was just about considering curling himself up into a tighter little ball and hoping the floor might open up and swallow her (it was probably possible, given all the other strange things that had been happening recently), when she dropped the papers down upon the floor beside him, making him jump.

And then, to his surprise, she too dropped down upon the floor, leaning back against the wall and spreading her legs out before her in a surprisingly casual manner. And then she glanced sideways at him with a smile and greeted:

"Alright there, Cherub? I don't suppose you fancy sitting up for me, do you? I don't reckon it's terribly comfy down there."

Cherub. Dora had to take a moment to gaze up at the ceiling in order to suppress a snigger. She hadn't quite been able to resist it. When she dared look down at him again she found the boy hadn't dared to move a muscle, so she offered him a shrug and murmured:

"Suit yourself, then."

Theodore simply stared. There was a very long silence and Theodore dreaded to think what she might say next, but instead he found himself watching as she reached into the pocket of her robes and drew out a violently green little packet of some sort which she held out to him.

"Gum?" she offered, raising an eyebrow, and Theodore opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to squeak:

"No thank you."

"Hm..." she frowned, selecting a strip herself and carefully peeling away the foil. "A boy who doesn't like gum...very odd! D'you suppose I should write that down on your record, then? D'you think that's odd enough to be suspicious?"

Theodore watched in bemusement as she stuffed the gum unceremoniously into her mouth and set about chewing.  
"I um...I don't know..." he mumbled in confusion, thinking that this woman was quite possibly the strangest individual he had ever come across, and to his further confusion she gave an exaggerated sigh and admitted:

"Well that's a pity, because I don't really know either." And with that, she offered him another raised eyebrow and a snigger.

Theodore was beginning to think that perhaps she wasn't quite as scary as he had first thought. Yes, she could shout rather loudly but apart from that apparently she was a bit silly.

"Apparently," the silly woman said, reaching to fiddle with a stray strand of pink hair. "Duncan out there seems to think you don't have a name." She leaned towards him, suppressing another snigger as she whispered: "Honestly, a boy without a name! What an idiot!" When she straightened up, Theodore finally decided it was safe to uncurl himself and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. The strange woman didn't seem to notice that he had moved, she was much too busy staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling again.

"Personally I think you probably do have a name." she informed him, tapping her fingers upon the floor beside her in deliberation. "I think you just didn't want to tell him what it was. I know how you feel. I don't tell anybody what my name is when they ask, either."

"Why not?" Theodore asked her, settling himself back against the wall and hugging his knees to his chest, and she offered him a rather dramatic look of complete and utter horror as she announced:

"Because it just so happens that I have the most silly name in the whole entire world."

"What is it?" Theodore asked rather keenly, only to jump a little when she turned abruptly to face him and cried:

"Well I can't possibly tell you, can I? It's much too silly!"

"Oh..."

"It's true, you know. My name is SO silly that...that I don't even let my own husband say it!"

"Really?"

"Really!" she turned to offer him a positively alarmed look and he very nearly jumped again. "Goodness," she exclaimed, leaning back towards him and dropping her voice back down to a whisper. "You don't have a very silly name too, do you?"

"Um..."

"You poor boy! That's utterly dreadful, you know! Still, I bet it isn't as awful as mine is..." Struck by sudden inspiration she sat bolt upright and reached into her pocket again, drawing out what appeared to be a bar of chocolate of some kind. Theodore wondered if all of her pockets were stuffed full of sweets. "I tell you what." she said, positively grinning. "Let's have a bet. I bet you this bar of chocolate that my name is at least a hundred times more silly than yours!" She stuck out a hand towards him and asked: "Deal?"

Theodore was so intrigued to find out what the most silly name the whole entire world was that he quite forgot that his own name was not silly in the slightest, so he reached forward to shake her by the hand, mumbling:

"Deal."

"Alright then," the silly woman whispered, eyes glittering conspiratorially, "but you have to promise not to laugh!"

Dora watched as the child pursed his lips firmly together, the corners tugging into an almost-smile and she asked:

"Do you promise, then?"

The boy nodded his head vigorously, already on the verge of a giggle and for a moment Dora felt quite lost in thought as she recalled that she seemed rather good at making children giggle, she could have the Potter-Weasley brood in hysterics with little more than a raised eyebrow and their parents would smile and tell her she was good with them.

She'd been good with Teddy. She would have been good with him...

The Auror hastily gave herself a little shake and silently demanded that she pull herself together.

"Alright then!" she whispered, plastering a wide grin back onto her face. "I think I'll trust you. Are you ready?"

The tear-stained cherub nodded again and she fixed him with a wide-eyed stared before informing him:

"My name is Nymphadora!"

The boy immediately sniggered, reaching to clamp a hand over his mouth and she made a show of gasping in horror.

"You promised not to laugh!" she cried, positively gaping at him in horror. "Well then you better tell me your name quick, else the bet's well and truly off!"

And she'd smiled at him encouragingly as he'd slowly removed the hand from his mouth, gazing shyly up at her

, fingers toying with one too-long sleeve. He'd drawn breath to speak and for a glorious moment Dora felt triumphant...

And then he'd whispered:

"Theodore. My name is Theodore."

It was like a sudden weight slamming into her chest, so sudden that the breath caught in her throat and she very nearly jumped away from him as if his words had burnt her.

But instead, Dora Lupin allowed the smile upon her lips to do little more than twitch and she reached to fold her hands carefully in her lap, struggling to find her voice for a long moment...

And then she gave what she hoped was a very convincing sigh and observed:

"Well that's not a very silly name at all..."


	10. Proof

Note: It's been quite a while since I last updated, sorry about that! I'm very busy with work for University and don't have much time to write these days. But I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will do my best to update again soon.

Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed the last chapter! I was shocked to see so many reviews, so much so that you have actually renewed my enthusiasm for this 'fic! I'm not sure I've ever had a chapter with so many reviews before. I honestly have no idea why it is popular, but it's lovely to hear that you are all having fun reading it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**10: Proof**

Theodore Beddington watched, chewing nervously upon his bottom lip as he watched Nymphadora reach to gather up the papers that she had dropped to the floor, leaning them against her knee as she carefully set about printing his name in a box in the top left had corner of the page in thick black ink. For a long few minutes there was silence as she continued to fill out a series of other boxes. Quite suddenly the child found the comfortable feeling that had begun to descend upon the dark little cell was fading...

Nymphadora set the quill pen (yes, a quill pen!) she was holding back down upon the floor before finally turning back to look at the boy. Her expression grew startlingly serious for a moment and she said:

"Right then, Theodore, under Ministry legislation I am obliged to inform you that whilst being detained by the Ministry of Magic you are entitled to view Form A1 of the records being held against you."

Theodore simply stared blankly.

The pink haired woman offered him a raised eyebrow, before holding the papers out for him to see.

"It means I have to read you this and make sure you understand what's written on it." she explained, suddenly casual again and Theodore felt quite relieved, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

Dora adjusted her grip upon the paper, determined to hurry things along. She wanted to get back to her office, hide herself away and scold herself for getting unnerved by a name.

Because it was just a name.

It meant nothing and she ought not be startled by it...

And yet...

"So!" she began again, perhaps sounding a little too determined for the boy's liking for he gave a startled jump. "This is your name, obviously. And here's your age..."

The same age as my Theodore...

Which is irrelevant. Stay focused...

"I can tell you that in the eyes of the law you are considered a minor, which means you can't be sent to Azkaban, but you can be sent to a correctional facility for minors should you be convicted of anything. Do you understand?"

The boy didn't look as though he understood at all, though he gave a small nod and quite frankly that was good enough as far as Dora was concerned right now.

"Right. And here's the name of the person who carried out your arrest...that would be me, obviously. And here's Duncan's name, he's your Process Officer, that means he was the one to stick you in this cell. He'll be in charge of keeping your records from now on. Okay? And this is where we write the name of the Head of Investigation and their position within the Ministry. The Head of Investigation is in charge of gathering together all of the evidence about your case to present it to the Wizengamot. Then, should the Wizengamot decide that you might need to be prosecuted, there will be a trial, and you can call upon witnesses or representatives to defend you. Do you understand?"

For a long moment, Theodore simply chewed upon his lip before mumbling:

"What's a Wizengamot?"

Dora fought to keep her eyes from widening in alarm.

Sod it, the Auror thought as she wet her lips a little uncertainly. We've got a muggle. A bloody muggle...

A muggle with polyjuice?

A muggle with polyjuice who doesn't know about the Wizengamot...

If he didn't know about the Wizengamot, what else didn't he know?

What if he didn't know anything?

What if some careless bastard had dragged an unsuspecting muggle child into the bewildering world of magical crime, with little if no real explanation? Fed the poor kid polyjuice of all things and shoved him into the dragon's den...

Sweet Merlin, there would be hell to pay! What a bloody mess...

Dora reached to snatch up the quill.

"This box here," she said, gesturing vaguely towards a large box at the bottom of the page. "Is just where we write general notes. So...I'm going to write here that you're a muggle..."

"A what?"

Sweet Merlin...

"A muggle, Theodore. It means you can't do magic."

Dora was halfway through scrawling muggle at the bottom of the page when the boy suddenly ducked his head, shoulders hunched. The witch paused in her scribbling to peer at him.

"It's alright, you know." she assured him encouragingly. "It doesn't matter if you're a muggle, that's fine...in fact it'll probably work in your favour..." she trailed off at the sound of a vague mumble escaping the boy's lips. Leaning a little closer to him, the witch asked: "What's that?"

Theodore screwed his eyes shut, hugging his legs nervously to his chest. It was not for several long minutes that he consented to mumbling:

"I can. I...I can do it...I can do magic..."

"Oh!" Nymphadora said, realisation seemingly dawning and Theodore flinched in anticipation. After all, if Aunt Eliza was anything to go by, admitting to being a freak was probably not terribly wise.

Even if this strange place appeared to be full of freaks too...

Apparently Nymphadora didn't appear to share his concern, for she scribbled out her partially written word and, frowning deeply, wondered:

"But you live withmuggles, I suppose?"

"Um..." Theodore dared to peer up at her from the refuge of his knees. This was a tricky question, he supposed, because technically now he didn't live with anybody...

"Is Mum a muggle? And Dad?" Nymphadora asked, and Theodore supposed she thought she was being helpful, though this question was just as difficult as the last.

"Um...I...I don't really know..." the supposed orphan whispered. "I...I've never met them."

At this revelation, Nymphadora suddenly stared at him.

Not bloody funny, Dora thought as she gazed at the child, sucking in a deep, calming breath. Not funny at all...

It was just occurring to her that perhaps, by some bizarre stroke of luck this was the same Theodore who had so unnerved Remus at the cafe, when she realised that her staring was making the boy uncomfortable. She instantly plastered a reassuring look onto her face and murmured:

"Never mind, eh Cherub. You've plenty of people to love you, I'm sure. Who do you live with, if Mum and Dad aren't around? What about...aunts, uncles?"

"Aunt Eliza and Uncle Augustus." Theodore mumbled automatically, only to frown deeply at his own words. "But...but they're not really...they're not actually my aunt and uncle..."

"But they look after you?"

"Not really...that was Nana Plume's job. But...but...but she's...gone..."

"Right...so you live with Aunt Eliza and Uncle Augustus?"

"I...I suppose..."

"Right, that's that then. Aunt Eliza and Uncle Augustus are muggles, and you live with them." Dora hastily scrawled this fact down upon the parchment, feeling quite relieved that she had managed to reach a speedy conclusion and they could move onto talking about something else. "So," she said, flinging the quill down upon the floor triumphantly and managing a bright smile. "What's the Wizengamot, you ask! Well, Theodore, the Wizengamot is a big bunch of mostly ancient witches and wizards, who like to dress up in extremely dodgy looking hats and sit around in a big room upstairs looking unnaturally serious and boring. Most of the time they have really dull discussions about politics and laws, and if they're feeling particularly animated they might pass a law or two, or make amendments to a few others."

"So...they're like...the government?"

"They're both the parliament and the high court of Wizarding Britain."

"The...high...court?"  
"That's right." At the startled look upon the child's face, the Auror gave a shrug and assured him: "I wouldn't get frightened of them if I were you, Cherub. Half of them are so old they're going senile and the rest of them lost their marbles sometime during the Middle Ages..."

"Middle Ages? Talking about your love life again?" an abrupt voice called loudly through the bars at the door, causing Theodore to give a startled jump, and Nymphadora had barely snapped her head around to look towards the source of the noise when from outside Duncan's voice hissed:

"Don't provoke her, for Merlin's sake!"

"D'you want to take over, Lucas?" Nymphadora inquired loudly through clenched teeth, and the first voice hurriedly mumbled:

"No ta, boss!"

"Well sod off back to your desk, then!" the pink haired witch snapped, only to turn back towards Theodore and offer him an exasperated look. "How unprofessional are those idiots out there, eh? Don't worry, we won't make any of them your Head of Investigation. We'll find somebody half decent for you."

As he watched her turn her attention back to the papers in front of her, chewing thoughtfully upon her gum, Theodore felt another wave of nerves wash over him, and he peered down at the papers worriedly.

"Can't...can't you...can't you do it?" the boy mumbled rather hopefully, quite keen to keep a hold of this strange yet reassuringly kind woman, rather than be faced with yet another stranger. Theodore felt comfortable, or as comfortable as one could in such a odd and awful situation as he was in, with Nymphadora around. And the more he thought about it, the less frightened he was by her fierce demeanour and the more he felt that, being in such dreadful trouble, he could use somebody fierce and bold on his side.

She would make a good protector.

The child felt utterly crushed, therefore, when the woman glanced up at him with a soft chuckle and said:

"What...me? Merlin no, of course not!"

"Why not?" Theodore asked, voice rising an octave in a mixture of panic and misery, and as she went back to examining the papers, Nymphadora murmured:

"Well obviously I can't..." she trailed off at the sound of the boy giving a dejected sniff, admitting: "Well...not obvious to you, of course..."

"Why not?" Theodore asked her again, and she dropped the papers back into her lap and graced him with her full attention again.

"This isn't my normal job." she explained, much to his misery. "I mean I don't go around arresting kids like you or anything of the sort. I don't investigate kids stealing stuff. That's...not my job..."

"But...but you did! You...you did arrest me..."

"Yeah, I know...that was different."

Theodore didn't understand. He felt a sudden urge to lunge forward and grasp hold of her by the arm, as if she might get up and leave, or perhaps even disappear into thin air as they had done earlier.

"I'm...on loan, you might call it...for a few days." she went on, making things a little clearer and yet somehow still not clear at all. "My boss sent me to work with the Magical Law Enforcement office for a little while."  
"Why?" Theodore choked, grasping fistfuls of clothing to stop himself from reaching for her instead, and her expression grew suddenly pained. But as soon as the change had occurred, it was gone again, replaced by an apologetic look instead.

"Because they needed my help." she said, only to frown a little and mumble: "At least they thought they did. Obviously they can deal with this perfectly well without me." Her heart-shaped face brightened reassuringly and she told the child: "I'll be back in my own department in a day or so, but there's nothing to worry about! I'll get you Olivia Bindle or Geraldine Flemming. They're dead nice, I promise..."

"But I don't want them!" Theodore complained, only she didn't appear to be listening to his protests for she mused:

"You know I'm pretty certain Olivia grew up with muggles too. I'll definitely ask her, then. She'll be back off holiday tomorrow..."

"I don't want O...Olivia...o...or anybody else, I...I just want...I just want you! I...I want you to...to help me!"

Theodore watched in horror as Nymphadora reached to retrieve the discarded quill, straightening the papers upon her lap before tucking them under one arm and slowly getting to her feet.

"Sorry Cherub, no can do." she told him regretfully, flinching a little when he promptly burst into fresh tears. "I'll have a stack of case files waiting in my tray when I go back. I'll really not have the time for another. And if it's not from our department, Boss wouldn't want to hear a word of it."

As she stood gazing down at the sobbing child despairingly, Dora sucked in a deep, steadying breath. A rather large part of her wanted to reach down and give the poor little boy a hug, or at the very least pat him gingerly upon the arm...

But no. For one thing, that wasn't the done thing...

"Tell you what, how'd you fancy a hot chocolate?" she found herself offering a little hesitantly. Handing out hot drinks wasn't the done thing either, she supposed, but quite frankly she didn't give a toss...

"You just...stay put..." she decided, adjusting the papers under her arm determinedly. "I'll um...I'll go and get it. And then I'll write Olivia a memo for when she gets back tomorrow. Everything'll be alright, you'll see. There's nothing to be frightened of, I promise."

When she slipped back out into the corridor a moment later, pulling the door firmly shut behind her and shuffling over to dump the papers back onto Duncan's desk, Dora felt sudden relief wash over her, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.

Duncan glanced up from his absent-minded fiddling with a paperclip to offer her a raised eyebrow.

"Voldemort Junior, is it?" he asked, leaning back in his chair with a snigger, and the Auror blinked somewhat dully.

"What?"

"The kid, Tonks. You look as if you've seen a boggart."

"Oh, right...no, no he's not. Definitely not. I um...I'm tired, you know? Knackered, actually...I should...you know..."

"Yeah. See you, then."

"I'll be back. I'm going to get him a drink."

"Right."

"Yeah..."

As she wandered off up the corridor towards the lift, Dora barely resisted the urge to give herself a firm shake. She had thought herself calm, she had thought her nerves left in tact, and yet the sheer relief that she had felt once the cell door had closed behind her had made it suddenly clear to her that really, she hadn't been calm at all...

Merlin, such drama over a boy with a name...

His name.

No, just a name. It was just a name...

Because it couldn't be anything more than that. It simply couldn't. She couldn't deal with anything more painful or complex, not now when she had Remus to think of.

And yet as she stepped into the lift, turning to stare blankly at the buttons upon the wall, Dora couldn't help but admit to herself that right now all she wanted to do was flee to the nearest fireplace, floo home and relay the whole strange and painful story to her husband in extreme detail, so that he could explain it all away as coincidence and silliness, give her a hug and make her feel infinitely better. Worse still was the fact that, despite his own mental turmoil, she was certain Remus would manage all of this if the task were to present itself to him...

Because he was a bloody good actor.

Dora wasn't sure knowing it would be an act made it any less appealing. She would relish playing make-believe for a while. He could pretend that they were both sane and rational, and she could pretend that requiring him to do so wasn't in any way cruel given the state he'd been in when she had left the house that morning.

She was still musing upon this notion a while later when she realised that she had wandered back up to her office and, Theodore's hot chocolate entirely forgotten, planted herself temptingly in front of the fireplace.

_Leave it,_ a voice inside her head demanded as she eyed the pot of floo powder longingly. _Leave him alone, stay away until you meet for coffee. Wait until you've pulled yourself together. That's right, pull yourself together, don't ask him to do it for you. Because he will. And then he'll fall apart enough for both of you..._

But perhaps, she thought, frowning deeply and pursing her lips together, talking about Theodore might help both of them. It was the same Theodore, she was relatively sure, and even if it wasn't, talking would still help. It might do some good now that both she and Remus understood one another, now that they had both suffered the same unnerving, dull ache in their chests. Two heads were better than one, they might make some sort of sense, come to some sort of conclusion, drag themselves out of the hole they were slowly sinking into.

Together.

If she stayed at the Ministry she was only going to get pestered by the morons from MLE anyway.

This final realisation very nearly made the witch's mind up on the spot. She reached to grasp a fistful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

The house was still and quiet, scarce few lights had been turned on which led Dora to suspect that despite the increasingly late hour, Remus had probably gone back to bed after she had flooed to arrange coffee.

She found him upstairs in their bedroom, the curtains drawn firmly over the window and a clean set of clothes abandoned over the back of the dressing table chair. This was apparently as far as he had gotten in terms of getting up and dressed for the day.

For a long moment, Dora simply stood in the doorway, arms folded firmly across her chest as she eyed the sleeping werewolf in consideration, before concluding that, given the fact that she could only disappear from work for a limited amount of time without provoking Harry into summoning her into his office for an immensely dull lecture about her responsibilities, she was going to have to take drastic measures. After all, sometimes one had to be cruel to be kind.

She marched briskly across the room, seized a curtain in each hand, and flung them open wide. As sunlight flooded the dim bedroom, she felt quite satisfied to hear scrambling movement upon the bed behind her, and she turned to find her husband had buried his head under one pillow.

"Up!" the witch demanded, reaching to grasp hold of the duvet and yank it free from his hold. "Come on, I'm doing a bunk, if I'm away for too long somebody will notice!"

For a long moment as he reached to grasp hold of his pillow, a purely defensive move, Remus only managed an incoherent mumble of protest under his breath. But once she had snatched his last object of comfort away and thrown it unceremoniously upon the floor, he managed:

"What're you doing a bunk for?"

"To come and see you, obviously." Dora told him impatiently, and she scowled when his face contorted in protest and he mumbled:

"Can't you do that later? Isn't that what coffee's for..."

"Are you telling me to sod off?"

"Well..."

"Get UP! We need to talk."

"Sweet Merlin..." The werewolf slowly heaved himself up into a sitting position and attempted to blink the sleep from his eyes. Stifling a yawn he muttered: "_We need to talk_? You're not pregnant again, are you?"

"Ha. Ha." Dora shuffled back so that he could get to his clothes. Despite her tone she was secretly glad to hear some humour, about pregnancy no less, perhaps things were beginning to mend themselves.

As he rose to his feet and set about swapping pyjamas for corded trousers and shirt, she perched upon the edge of the bed, reaching to fiddle with a stray strand of hair, lips pursed together apprehensively. Apparently the lull in talk was making him equally uneasy, for as he shrugged on his shirt and set about doing up the buttons, he asked:

"So...are you having a good morning?"

Dora felt a sudden urge to laugh at the absurdness of this question, but instead she got to her feet again and went to stand before him, swatting his hands away and doing up his buttons, glad to have something to busy herself with as she murmured:

"It's been...unusual."

"Oh?"  
"Hmm." As she fiddled with a particularly stubborn button hole, she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and murmured: "I met your little friend this morning."

"My little friend...?"

For a long moment, the witch allowed herself to revel in his ignorance, before drawing in a deep breath and admitting:

"Yes...Theodore. I arrested him."

There was a very long pause before Remus cleared his throat and agreed:

"How unusual."

Dora stopped fiddling with the latest button, reaching to grasp fistfuls of shirt in both hands instead.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, leaning forward until her forehead was pressed against his chest. "About yesterday, I mean. I...I shouldn't have gotten so..." she trailed off, sighing heavily before admitting: "I know what you meant about him. I've had to sit and talk to him and when he said his name...I...I just...I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry! It was awful of me to react the way I did, I don't think you're sick or anything because I felt exactly the same this morning."

"What did you arrest him for?" Remus asked, and she felt oddly deflated at his lack of response to her apology.

"He was at the museum, about to steal the Scorched Cabinet."

"Really?"

"Mm."

"Merlin..."

"I think some bastard put him up to it, persuaded him to drink polyjuice, poor thing. He wasn't a kid when I arrested him, you see. I take this hysterical twenty-something down to the cells and before I know it the MLE morons were all in a flap, I go back down and find this curled up little bundle of too-large clothes..."

"Goodness."

"Mm...and he's been brought up by muggles, you know. He didn't know what the Wizengamot was."

"I expect you traumatised him plenty, then."

Dora let out a strained chuckle.

"I think we gave one another plenty to feel traumatised about." Leaning back just enough so that she could peer up at her husband to find that he had visibly paled, she said: "I think we should...talk. About him."

"About _him_...?"

"I mean Teddy. We should talk about our Teddy. About what we're going to do..." She trailed off as she realised that her grip upon his shirt had tightened to something akin to desperation, so she let go, settling her palms against his chest instead. "Obviously, Sweetheart, something needs to change. Getting...getting freaked out by some random kid with a familiar name is...well it's bad for us, you know? We need to sit down and...and rationalize things. Because...well..."

"Because we're both utterly mental?" Remus offered with a raised eyebrow, and she was glad again for his good humour.

"I wasn't going to put it that way, but...if you like, yes. Because we're both utterly mental and we can't go on like this." she insisted, and as soon as the humour had appeared upon his face it was gone again.

"Alright." he murmured, reaching to grasp hold of her by the elbow, and she found herself being steered over towards the bed. The two of them sat down, gazing blankly towards the window as they attempted to think of what to say.

Remus had known that this conversation was coming. He just hadn't expected it to happen so abruptly...

He had absolutely no idea what either of them would have to say to make things better, indeed he wasn't sure it could get better at all.

And he was much too preoccupied by the rather startling fact that Dora had just happened to bump into That Boy From The Cafe.

Calling him That Boy From The Cafe wasn't really a good start to the healing process, the werewolf supposed, but he didn't quite care. Healing took a long time, in fact one never entirely recovered from losing their one and only child. He was certainly less glum than he had been earlier in the day. Wasn't that progress enough, for now?

Remus cleared his throat determinedly and reached to wrap his fingers firmly around Dora's hand.

"Perhaps," he decided, "we should start from the beginning. Make a list of...of what exactly is wrong..."

"Our son _died_." Dora pointed out bluntly, as if his suggestion was in some way awfully insensitive. Remus couldn't help but flinch a little, but carried on nevertheless.

"Yes...that's...that's top of the list."

"That's pretty much the problem, in a nutshell."

"I doubt it. If it was we would have dealt with it by now...at least better than we are now."

There was a very long silence and when Dora finally broke it, it became apparent that she had no intention of contributing any more because she slumped sideways with a poorly suppressed sob, reaching to clamp a hand over her eyes.

Nevertheless, the witch managed to mumble:

"Go...go on..."

"Well..." Remus began uncertainly, reaching to put an arm firmly around her. "Teddy didn't just die. He...he wasn't ill, he was safe...or we thought he was safe...he was taken away from us by the Death Eaters. They...they killed him. So...he didn't just die. He was murdered. That's...that's a whole lot more difficult, isn't it?"

"Yes." Dora agreed, and strangely enough she found she felt better for it. Accepting the true nature of the situation was helpful, it explained the thoughts, the feelings, the guilt...

"Sometimes," she admitted, grip upon his hand tightening. "I...I do think it was my fault. Sometimes I think...I think...could I have done things differently or...or could I have been a better parent...kept him safe instead of going off to have a drink with Bill and everybody...you know?"

"Yes. So...perhaps we feel we should have done more for him."

"And now it's too late."

"Yes...and sometimes I wish I...I wish I could have told him things. Things fathers are supposed to tell their children...even if he was too young to understand them. But I didn't...I didn't even get to say goodbye to him."

"No...we didn't, did we?"

"No..."

"I mean...we didn't even have a funeral..." Dora trailed off, eyes widening in sudden realisation and she turned to stare up at Remus in horror. "Sweet Merlin, Remus! We...we didn't even have a funeral! We didn't have a funeral for our own son!"

"There wasn't a body..." Remus began, only for Dora to look utterly outraged.

"I don't give a toss!" she practically shrieked, leaping to her feet. "It wasn't his fault, was it? Why...why couldn't we...?"

"I...I suppose it never...never really occurred to us...and we were busy with the War and the Order..." Remus mumbled, apparently not even vaguely sure. "Perhaps that's the real problem. We never said goodbye, we never did that last thing for him, we never gave ourselves a place to visit him."

"Merlin..." Dora whispered, face contorting at the mere thought. "To think we could just...just not have a funeral...it makes me feel wretched. We're going to have to have one, you know. I don't care how long it's been since...it happened." Straightening up she turned to fix her husband with a deeply sad smile. "You were right, you know. Making a list helps. I think this might be it, you know. I think if we had a funeral it would solve a lot of things...I think we'd feel so much better."

Remus managed a strained little smile of his own, before leaning to press a firm kiss to the witch's forehead.

"I think so too."

Dora let out a sigh of relief, glad at the thought of progression, of change, of things being better.

And they would be better, she thought resolutely as she reached to wrap her arms securely around her husband's neck, leaning to press a triumphant kiss to his lips. They were going to be so much better, so much stronger.

Nothing would shake them, nobody would shake them.

Not even a orphaned little cherub like Theodore Beddington.

And she was going to prove it, Dora decided firmly as she felt Remus reach to hook an arm around her waist. She was going to prove it to herself.

And so it was that half an hour later, the door to Theodore Beddington's cell was finally opened again, and the boy found himself with another visitor. He watched in silence as Duncan shuffled across the dim little room before stooping to set down a large steaming mug beside Theodore's feet.

"Hot chocolate." the wizard announced as the boy eyed the mug, very nearly smiling. "She'd have brought it down herself, she says, but she's gone up to the Auror Office to tell her boss she wants to dump half of her cases on some other poor sod instead...she's got a bloody nerve! Oh...and I'm to show you this, too..."

A familiar looking set of papers were thrust under Theodore's nose, the boy blinking a little in surprise, staring blankly until Duncan jabbed a finger at a section that had not been filled in last Theodore had looked. When he read the curly script upon the parchment, Theodore Beddington felt his heart give a great leap of hope in his chest, and despite his gloomy surroundings, he positively beamed.

_Head of Investigation: Nymphadora Lupin, Deputy Head of Aurors._


	11. Office Politics

_Note: Might seem like a tangant, but this chapter does in actual fact serve a purpose! Plus I just found the interactions between characters interesting to write..._

_I'm still snowed under with work. I doubt I'll stop being snowed under until Christmas! But I managed to find a few spare moments to write this, I have no idea how..._

_I hope you enjoy reading it! :-)_

_Thanks to my wonderful reviewers, I'm still utterly delighted to hear from you all!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**11: Office Politics**

As she leant back in her chair, gazing drifting up towards the ceiling and barely resisting the urge to sigh at the increasingly agitated rantings of the man stood fidgeting furiously beside her, Dora Lupin wondered precisely when the Minister for Magic was going to put a stop to this complete and utter nonsense. There had been a great deal of nonsense since she had wandered into Harry's office some two hours earlier to tell him that she planned to take on the Beddington Case, but she hadn't quite expected things to get quite this ridiculous.

When she had explained her intentions to Harry, who had been midway through pouring over a mass of papers with a deep frown upon his brow, the Head of Aurors hadn't even bothered to look up from his work. Instead, he had laughed out loud and told her:

"Yeah, Tonks. And I'm a Death Eater."

"I'm being deadly serious."

"You're not."

"I'm telling you I am."

"And I'm telling you you're not. You can't take on another case."

"I wasn't really asking your permission..." Dora had began, and Harry had at last looked up at her, expression contorting in a mixture of irritation and uncertainty.

Dora had felt quite uncertain too, they both always did at moments like this. Ever since Harry had been appointed as Head of the Auror Department, some year after Dora had been appointed the department's Deputy, their working relationship had gotten...well...weird.

Before Harry's promotion their relationship had been through a number of different stages that were all entirely normal: Teenager and Adult, Protected and Protector, Auror cadet and Auror, Auror and Deputy.

These roles together all made perfect sense, they had both known where they stood, how they ought behave towards one another...

But these days things were simply weird.

The first weird thing had been the day that Dora had been called into Minister Shacklebolt's office to be told that the current Head of Aurors had handed in his resignation.

Quite naturally, she had felt at the time, she had waited to be offered a promotion...

And then Kingsley had announced:

"I'm going to ask Harry."

And Dora had stared blankly at him and asked:

"What?"

Kingsley's face had contorted worriedly and he'd mumbled:

"I've not offended you, have I? I mean...it's not that I don't want you to do it...it's just...well...Tonks...he's HARRY POTTER!"

Apparently this was supposed to have explained everything, which Dora later supposed it did. One couldn't simply not have Harry Potter as Head of the Auror Department, because...well, it just made sense!

Dora knew it would be a lie to suggest that for a few hours after leaving Kingsley's office that day, she hadn't felt utterly crushed and downright cheated by the whole business. But the stab of jealousy hadn't lasted long.

"I wanted to do it for Mad-Eye, you know." she'd told Remus that evening as they sat listening to a crackly tune upon the wireless. "I've always wanted to be the Head of Aurors...I want to be like him."

But Remus had merely pulled a face and muttered:

"Well I'd rather you didn't if it's all the same, darling. I like you with matching eyes, thank you very much." He'd chuckled to himself for a moment before sobering and telling her: "Harry's going to need you, you know."

And it was true, Dora had quickly realised. Harry often asked her advice, came to her for help. Harry made a fine department figurehead, he was well organised and he was good at not getting on Kingsley's nerves. Meanwhile, being older, Dora had the benefit of experience, she could quote and emulate Alastor Moody to quite a frightening degree, which ensured the deceased Auror's good, if slightly paranoid habits remained a positive influence upon the Aurors. They ran the department as a team and it had soon become clear that the titles Head and Deputy Head were little more than a formality...

Which was precisely what made some situations downright awkward.

Dora never asked Harry's permission for anything. She simply told him...

But sometimes, Harry didn't want to be told.

Just as he had today, Harry often pretended that their little conflicts were a bit of a joke, because of course life would be so much easier if at least one of them were joking.

"Have you told Remus you're going to sleep in your office for the next couple of weeks, then?" he'd asked, plastering a grin onto his face as if he found her stupidity amusing, but Dora had merely shrugged.

"Well that would be stupid. Obviously I can't keep all of my other cases."

"You've got to be joking..."

"I have?"

"Yes!"

"Well...I'm not..."

They had butted heads quite unsuccessfully for some minutes, until Harry had seemingly given up on a peaceful agreement and had risen abruptly from his chair...

Dora had waited for him to pull rank, to have the guts to tell her: _I'm the Head of Aurors! Shut up meagre underling and get me a coffee!_

But instead he'd announced that they were going to have to go and speak to Kingsley.

_Bloody coward!_ Dora had thought furiously as she had stalked along the corridor just behind him. _Are you a Gryffindor or not? Have a bloody backbone, for Merlin's sake..._

It wasn't that she liked to argue with Harry, or anybody for that matter. It was simply that if she had to argue, Dora liked to have at least a vague chance of winning the disagreement.

And how in Merlin's name was she supposed to win an argument with Kingsley without getting herself suspended, or worse, sacked?

_Bloody coward... _

To think she had always thought it rather nice and even amusing that Harry went out of his way not to end up rowing with her!

_And we're going to be having bloody tea with him and Ginny later..._

_Bloody cowardly...bloody...!_

Harry had relayed the whole situation to the Minister in what Dora couldn't help but feel was an unfairly biased manner, which made her suspect that she had irritated him to such an extent that he had forgotten how feeble and supposedly fragile she was at that moment in time, and then they had both sat down and waited for Kingsley to say something.

He had taken his time about it.

It was all a little awkward, if truth be told, and Dora suspected the Minister was once again wondering just how wise it had been to set up the Auror Department's leadership as he had done...

Kingsley had spent a long minute examining a chunky gold signet ring upon the middle finger of his left hand, before clearing his throat meaningfully and, gaze upon Dora suddenly piercing in a manner that suggested he had decided whose corner he was going to fight and which unlucky contender was going to get a verbal punch in the face, announced:

"Tonks, this is utterly unreasonable and entirely unacceptable."

"Exactly!" Harry had nodded, and Dora had briefly considered punching _him_ in the face, before admitting to herself that really, violence didn't solved anything...

Except for the War, and Voldemort and the Death Eaters...

"There is absolutely no reason why MLE can't sort this case out on their own." Kingsley went on, entirely ignoring Harry's triumphant little outburst. "And if you've already got several cases on...well, there's no reason to give yourself too much work, is there?"

He had smiled, then, one of those gentle, pitying curves of the mouth that made her want to cringe.

And Dora had realised that she had absolutely no intention of explaining her motives for wanting to investigate Theodore Beddington, because the understanding and sympathy from her two colleagues and friends would utterly suffocate her.

She was just going to have to persuade them in some other way...

"Listen, Kingsley..." she'd began, impressing herself at how calm and reasonable she was managing to sound, but at that precise moment the door to the Minister's office had been flung open and MLE Commander Bernard Wattle had stormed into the room, flushed pink face like thunder.

"Minister!" he exclaimed, eyes bulging quite madly. "Really, I must insist that you do something! She's...she's...being...she's being entirely UNACCEPTABLE!"

"I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea who you are talking about, Bernard..." Kingsley had admitted, voice the model of calm, but Wattle's pause for breath had given him just enough time to notice first Harry and then...

"HER!" the balded man practically shrieked, jabbing an accusing finger in Dora's direction. "I'm telling you now, Minister...AWFUL conduct! She's being...she's being...SPITEFUL!"

Dora simply stared at him in bemusement.

"Honestly," she said as Harry shuffled back in his chair a little as if he feared Wattle might round on him at any moment. "I don't know what he's talking about..."

"Would you like to sit down, Bernard?" Kingsley offered mildly, reaching into the pocket of his robes for his wand. "Let me conjure you a chair..."

"WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?" Wattle cried, entirely ignoring the Minister's offer. "She waltzes into my department like she owns it, throws everything into chaos by just disappearing for half the day..."

"It's not even lunchtime yet. How can I disappear for half a day when it hasn't even _bee_n half a day yet..."

"Tonks be quiet..."

"And now, if you please, she's STEALING MY CASES!"

"He's exaggerating."

"Tonks...!"

"SHE DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO BE ON THE CASE IN THE FIRST PLACE, NOW SHE'S TRYING TO STEAL IT OFF OF ME! WHY? WELL THAT'S OBVIOUS! SHE'S DOING IT TO UNDERMINE ME..."

"Now really, Bernard..."

"TO MAKE ME LOOK FOOLISH!"

"I'm sure that's not the case..."

"HOW DARE YOU PRESUME TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO INTERFERE AND TAKE OVER..."

And that had been it. He'd been ranting and raving ever since.

It was giving Dora a headache.

The Deputy Head of Aurors dared a sideways glance at Harry. He appeared to be suffering in a similar way, for he had given up on listening and had reached to bury his face in a hand instead. Kingsley was still staring up at Wattle intently, apparently listening to every shrieking syllable as if the moron stood before him was giving some sort of deeply serious and important report about some other extremely boring subject or another.

No wonder they'd made him Minister, Dora thought, and despite herself she found herself smiling at the thought.

Kingsley immediately shot her a scowl of deepest disapproval, and the witch hurriedly wiped the amusement from her face, before clearing her throat loudly in an attempt to halt Wattle's continuous rant.

"Honestly, Bernard," she said, voice raised in order to be heard. "I had absolutely no intention whatsoever of stepping on your toes. I'm terribly sorry if that's how you feel, I would hate to think you feel I'm attempting to undermine you...I honestly don't know why you would think that...I don't see what...what purpose it would serve...why you think I'd bother..."

"Give me my bloody case back, then!" Wattle demanded, a little breathless from his long outburst, and Dora flinched a little when Harry muttered:

"Yeah Tonks, give him his bloody case back..."

"I...can't do that..." Dora mumbled rather uncertainly, and Wattle's face instantly contorted in fury.

"Excuse me? What do you mean you can't? Can't? WON'T, MORE LIKE..."

"That's quite enough, thank you!" Kingsley interrupted firmly, beginning to sound quite exasperated by the whole business. "Tonks, you'll hand the case back to MLE..."

"But..."

"No buts! I'm not interested, I don't care what you have to say, you'll hand it back and get on with the work Harry has assigned to you, and that's that."

"But..."

"I said no buts! And what's this about you throwing a bunk? What sort of example is that to set to the other staff? It's unprofessional..."

"That's not really fair..."

"No, you're right! It isn't fair! It's not fair on Bernard, it's not fair on his staff, it's not fair on any of us..."

"Kingsley..."

"It's not the first time you've done it, either. I let it slide last time but really, Tonks..."

"There are problems at home!" Dora instantly flinched at her interruption. She had been fighting the need to pull the sympathy card, she simply couldn't stand it, yet things were beginning to grow increasingly hostile...

She wasn't about to land herself with a disciplinary hearing.

Not another one...

"Things are...a bit difficult right now...!" she half-squeaked, shoulders hunched self-consciously, "I um...I just...I just popped home to...to check up on...things. I was gone for an hour at most and...and you can call it my lunch break if you like. Or you can dock my wages, whatever you like...I don't really care..."

And quite suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifted entirely.

"Don't be silly, Tonks." Harry announced, reaching to pat her upon the arm in the usual cringe-worthy manner. "Nobody's going to dock your wages or anything like that. Isn't that right, Kingsley?"

"Of course." Kingsley murmured, his gaze upon the witch softening, and Wattle shifted rather uncomfortably where he stood, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. After a long pause, he cleared his throat meaningfully and mumbled:

"Perhaps...perhaps we ought...discuss this later. I've...I've things to...to be getting on with..."

"Yes, perhaps that would be for the best." Kingsley agreed as Dora sunk down in her chair. "Perhaps you ought get back to things too, Harry. I'm sure I'll...come and visit you this afternoon."

"Right." Harry agreed, and with that he got hurriedly to his feet and before she knew it, Dora found herself entirely alone with the Minister.

"Tea?" he offered kindly as the door to the office swung shut at Harry's back.

"No thanks." Dora mumbled, reaching to rake the hair back from her eyes with a deep sigh of resignation.

"Too right," Kingsley murmured as he settled back in his chair with a smile. "After Bernard's little show I think the pair of us could use something a tad more alcoholic."

"I don't really do drinking on the job." Dora muttered, fixing the desktop before her with a stare, and the wizard flinched a little, shifting uneasily in his seat.

"Of course not...Mad-Eye would've flayed you alive, for one thing."

"Mm."  
"And you're far too professional for the likes of that."

Dora let out a soft snort, glancing up at him disbelievingly.

"You don't have to say nice things about me just because you think I'm an emotional broom crash. I'm rather tired of being patronized."

"I'm not patronizing you, Tonks, I'm being honest. I don't think you unprofessional in the slightest..."

"Of course you do. You've just said so. You can't just take it back because you're worried I'm going to burst into tears and make you feel awkward."

Kingsley merely smiled.

"I wish I could have the nerve to be as frank and honest as you." he said, sighing heavily. "If I did I would have told Bernard to shut up whining and stop making a mountain out of a mole hill. I'd have pointed out that he's clearly completely deluded, you've not a spiteful bone in your body! But I can't do that...I'd much rather verbally batter you instead. Because I know you'll just bounce right back. I know you'll forgive me and not go stirring up trouble...unlike him."

Dora said nothing. She was too busy coaxing her lips to twitch towards a smile, she could manage little else, and quickly went back to staring at the desk.

"Obviously you've not tried to take the case just to piss Bernard off..." Kingsley murmured thoughtfully, eyes upon her scrutinizing. "But you must've done it for a reason. A serious one, I suspect, because you must've known Harry would have none of it and you'd get yourself into trouble with Bernard and me. If you didn't have a serious reason you simply wouldn't have bothered to try."

"I'm not giving the case back." Dora told him, ignoring his probing entirely.

"I can't allow you to keep it."

"I won't give it up."

"You don't really have a choice..."

"Are you going to sack me if I refuse?"

"Of course not..."

"Well then...!"

"But I might have to suspend you."

Dora clenched her jaw against protest. Kingsley offered her a raised eyebrow.

"But I'd rather not, of course. I don't want to hurl you up in front of the Wizengamot and have them all turn on you for something as silly as this."

Dora merely stared at him with steely eyes. After a long pause, the wizard let out a heavy sigh, reaching to scratch his head.

"Come on, Tonks." he murmured pleadingly. "Don't be like this, you're making my life difficult."

"Let me keep the case." she said, folding her arms firmly across her chest.

Kingsley reached to rub a hand across his eyes, frowning into the blacks of his eyelids for a moment before straightening up in his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon the desk.

"I don't understand," he mumbled, gaze once again scrutinizing, "why you..._care._.."

Dora shrugged evasively, and silence dragged on for a few agonising minutes as the Minister mulled over the confusing scenario. When realisation seemed to materialise upon his face, Dora felt her mouth go dry.

"The boy's name is _Theodore_ Beddington, I hear." he recalled slowly, frowning deeply. "_Eleven_ years old..._orphaned_..."

Dora remained mute.

Kingsley leant further forward in his chair.

"Tell me about home." he requested softly, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"What, so you can go and tell Harry all about it?" she asked accusingly, feeling her cheeks redden.

"If it's appropriate...yes."

"Sod off."

He pursed his lips together for a moment, and for a cringe-worthy moment she thought he was going to reach across the desk and do that awful patting on the arm that she hated so much. But instead he wet his lips carefully and told her:

"You're not a one witch army, you know."

Dora eyed her boots with a rather disappointed smile as she agreed:

"No, I'm not. But I've re-enforcements enough at home, thanks."

"I rather doubt it. That's rather like the blind leading the blind, isn't it? It's Remus' loss as well as yours, you're both hurting..."

"We're fine. You make it sound as though we're the only grieving parents in the world! What about Molly and Arthur? What about Fred? He wasn't only a baby, he was grown up, he had his own ways and his own personality to be missed. Why don't you all go and offer them tissues and hugs instead?"

"Obviously...but...but it wasn't the same. Fred died fighting, he...he died for a cause...at least Molly and Arthur have that! Teddy...Teddy's murder was an act of pure hatred and spite...it was mindless! He was your only child..."

"We're going to have a funeral." Dora announced, keen to stop the flood of sympathy before it could get any worse. "That's what I went home for earlier, to have a proper talk about things. We've decided, Remus and I, that really we ought have a proper funeral and...and a place for him. It's going to help us, you see. We're going to have a funeral and then that'll be that. We'll...start to move on. Properly."

Kingsley gave a slow nod, still very much staring at her, before asking:

"Is that the point, then? Is that why you want the case? To...to prove what? You can work yourself to death because you're not spending time grieving?"

Dora leant forward in her chair, plastering a wide grin upon her face in an attempt to smother her unease that his assumptions were not all that far from the truth.

"If I say yes, will you let me keep the case?"

When Kingsley mere made a rather irritated grunting noise, she fixed him with an equally piercing stare and told him:

"I need this, Kingsley. Don't take it away from me...please."

Kingsley frowned deeply, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"Please. Let me keep it and I'll be better. I'll be so much better...at everything! I'll be better at work, I'll...I'll be better at home..."

"I don't see how." the wizard admitted, quite bemused. "Doesn't sound at all healthy for you to me..."

"You can't know though, can you?" Dora insisted stubbornly. "You're not me."

"What does Remus say?"

"I haven't told him yet."

Kingsley puffed his cheeks in exasperation and shook his head.

"You're utterly unbelievable..." he muttered, crossing his arms firmly across his chest, and yet he sat straighter in his chair and informed the witch: "Well you best make sure you tell him then, hadn't you? And whilst you're at it you better take the morning off tomorrow, to make a start on arranging the funeral. I'm sure somebody somewhere can take on a case or two to give you a spare few hours."  
For a long moment, Dora stared at him in surprise at her sudden victory. When he merely offered her a raised eyebrow she jumped to her feet, utterly beaming.

"You're a diamond!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in triumph, and his face contorted in annoyance as he reached to snatch up a quill pen from the desk.

"I rather doubt the others will agree with you." he muttered, reaching for a sheet to paper so that he could scribble down a memo. "Still...there's hope for them yet."

Dora opened her mouth to ask quite what he meant by this final, rather cryptic muttering, but before she could utter a word he shot her a scowl and instructed: "Now wipe that smug look off your face and get out of my office, before I forget that you're my favourite."

It was just twenty minutes later, back in the Auror Department, that a shadow fell across her desk and a crumpled ball of memo paper was flung down upon the paperwork in front of her.

Dora looked up from Theodore's files to find Harry stood before her, expression utterly livid.

"You're unbelievable." the Head of Aurors informed his Deputy as she leant back in her chair and smiled up at him pleasantly. "Utterly unbelievable..."

"So Kingsley tells me." she agreed, doing her very best not to look smug and failing somewhat dismally.

"I've put you down for babysitting the cadets on Friday." Harry informed her, looking a little smug himself. "I'm taking Ginny and the kids to watch the Quidditch."

"I'm busy." Dora pointed out, gesturing to the mass of papers upon her desk, but Harry shrugged.

"You say you're busy _now_." he reasoned, worryingly cheery. "But just because Kingsley doesn't have a backbone, doesn't mean nobody else does."

Before Dora could ask what he meant, he had turned and headed back towards the door, only to pause to offer her a bright grin and remind her:

"It's Stealth and Tracking on a Friday! See you this evening, then!"

Dora rolled her eyes at his retreating back and went back to her paperwork, frowning at the thought of office politics and how easily people seemed to get tangled up in them. Sometimes it was terribly lucky that she had a sense of humour...

It wasn't until lunchtime, when she had left the Ministry and walked to meet Remus at the cafe on Victoria Street, that Dora realised quite why Kingsley and Harry seemed confident that she hadn't beaten them yet.

She had arrived to find their usual table empty, and so had gone to order them each a cup of coffee. She waited for Remus for some ten minutes, resorting to filing her nails and humming tunelessly to herself to pass the time, when quite abruptly a couple of opened letters were dropped down upon the table before her. Blinking, the witch was just observing the familiar handwritings of both Harry and Kingsley upon the envelopes, both addressed to Remus, when her husband dropped down into the chair opposite her and inquired:

"What in _Merlin's_ name have you been saying to Harry and Kingsley?"

Dora scowled accusingly at the tell-tale letters before swallowing the lump in her throat.

She may have won the battle, but apparently she had yet to win the war.


	12. Top Marks

_Note: **There is some strong language in this chapter. Consider yourselves warned!**_

_It's a bit short, I'm afraid, but I wanted to post since it's taken me such a long time! I hope you enjoy it_

_I have no idea what else to say, so..._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. _

**12: Top Marks**

"For goodness sake, put that cup down and actually _look at me_!"

Dora Lupin drained the last dregs of coffee from her cup, before setting it back down upon the table with a thud.

"Well, I think I should be getting back to work..." she announced, reaching for the purse that she had abandoned upon the table, only to have it snatched from her grasp.

"Don't move." her husband instructed firmly, pocketing the purse before folding his arms firmly across his chest. "Just listen to what I'm telling you..."

"I've listened!" the Auror exclaimed, slumping back in her chair, expression distinctly sulky. "I get it! You disapprove!"

"Me disapproving isn't really the issue here..."

"Precisely, love! You can remind Kingsley and Harry that this isn't the Stone Age, I'm not obliged to give a toss what my husband thinks of...well..._anything_, so their scheming has failed..."

"Perhaps that's true, but I'd like to think that you'd choose to give a toss anyway."

Dora opened her mouth to respond, only to firmly close it again.

"Let's forget for a moment how utterly unreasonable all of this is and how much it will inconvenience Harry and the rest of the department." Remus suggested, folding his hands carefully upon the tabletop. "Honestly, darling, I really don't think this case is going to be...well..._healthy_ for you." When Dora merely began to shake her head, he reached across the table to lay a hand atop of hers. "Won't you give it up?" he pleaded. "You don't need the grief, you really don't..."  
"But I do." Dora began to insist. "I need to prove it to myself, I don't care if it's healthy or not..."  
"Then won't you give it up for me? Because I care a great deal. You'll have me worried, taking on a case like this on your own right now...what with the funeral to sort out."

Dora pursed her lips together with a huff, turning her hand so that she could entangle her fingers with his own.

"Come on," he murmured, gaze upon her imploring. "Let me look out for my wife. Take some advice from me and drop the case."

Dora frowned, reaching with her free hand to rake a thoughtful hand through her hair, before at long last looking up at him, dark eyes twinkling with sudden inspiration.

"I think you could look out for me a bit better than that, you know." the Auror murmured, leaning forward eagerly in her chair.

Remus immediately leant backwards.

"Oh?" he breathed, instantly certain that he wasn't going to like what would come next, and she eyed him keenly for a moment.

Remus squirmed.

"Help me." Dora suggested. "I'll bring the case files home with me. We can investigate together."

The werewolf let out a breath of laughter.

"That's illegal." he pointed out, pulling his hand free from her grasp so that he could reach for his coffee cup. "You can't share sensitive Ministry documents with people outside of the Ministry, they'll sack you..."

"Who honestly gives a toss about all that?" Dora cried, positively grinning. "I come home every night, you ask me how work was and I tell you more than is in that file over dinner anyway! Everybody does it..."

"And everybody takes their spouse to work with them the following morning to take part in raids and give a joint report on their findings over dinner from the night before, do they? For Merlin's sake, Dora! It's ridiculous..."

"_Your_ ridiculous! It's Harry and Kingsley! They won't care...or even _notice_!"

"We've got a funeral to arrange..."

"Precisely! I'm going to be busy, I'll need all the help I can get! Come on, Remus, do this for me! It'll be good for us!"

"It really won't..."

"It will! I know it will!"

"Dora..."

"Please, love. Can't we give it a go? If it all turns ugly I'll hand it back to MLE."

Remus leant to run a weary hand across his face, sighing deeply.

There was a very long pause.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" he mumbled, and her triumphant little cheer made him jump, knee colliding painfully with the underside of the table.

The screaming was getting louder.

Theodore Beddington shuffled further back into the corner of his cell and reached to bury his head in his arms, face contorting in fright at the commotion that appeared to be getting steadily closer, closer...

"I'M INNOCENT! YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!"

"Settle down, Miss Robinson..."

"LET GO OF ME!"

"Let's try and calm down, eh? Now you know how this works, don't you? For the purpose of Ministry records, please state your full name..."

"YOU CAN'T LOCK ME UP! I...I've got a son...!"

"Full name, please."

"Y...you...you can't l...lock me up down h...here..."

"Full name please, Miss Robinson."

As the Ministry's latest prisoner let out a woeful shriek, causing Theodore to flinch, the boy could just about make out the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice inquired:

"Wotcher, Duncan. What's going on?"

"Alright Tonks?" As Duncan greeted the Deputy Head of Aurors, Theodore scrambled hurriedly to his feet and made a beeline for the cell door, rising up upon his tiptoes to peer through the bars.

"Miss Robinson here is not keen to provide us with her full name." Duncan was saying from his eat behind his desk, and Theodore could just about make out a bedraggled looking woman dressed in ragged robes slumped upon the floor, held up by the two men stood behind her, each grasping hold of shoulder.

Tonks stepped around the two men so that she could peer down at the woman, who looked up through a tangled mess of greasy blonde hair to stare at the Auror.

"That's Ludmilla Alice Dawkins, not Robinson." the pink haired witch identified, "My lot bought her in for something just a few weeks ago."

The wretched prisoner lurched abruptly forward, eyes utterly poisonous, and the sudden movement made Theodore jump.

"LYING BITCH!" she shrieked as the Auror did little besides raise an eyebrow.

"She doesn't have a son, either, just so you know." Tonks said as the woman was yanked backwards by her two captors. "She tried to pull that one on us, too..."

"SHE'S LYING!" the woman cried, eyes widening madly. "Bloody lying, filthy little..."

"That's_ quite enough_, thank you Miss Dawkins." Duncan interrupted loudly, only for the woman to shriek:

"I'd like to hex whichever bastard made you a Deputy! Biased, manipulative bitch!"

"Yes, yes, that'll do..." Duncan began, beginning to sound rather bored by the outbursts, only for the woman to lurch forward again and, to Theodore's shock, spit at Tonks' boots. As the two men yanked her backwards again, resorting to dragging the woman a good few feet away from the Auror, Tonks eyed her feet with mild irritation before looking up to inform Duncan:

"I sent her brother to Azkaban for six months last year."

"Ah." Duncan said, lips tugging into an understanding smile, and with that he held out his quill and asked: "Would you sign for identifying her, then?"

"Sure." Tonks said, ignoring the latest torrent of abuse that was hurled at her from the prisoner who was being dragged towards another cell door. As the two men bundled the wailing woman through a dark doorway to Theodore's right, Duncan asked:

"Not knocking off yet, then?"

"Nope." Tonks murmured as she bent to scrawl a loopy signature upon the documents he pushed towards her. "No rest for the wicked, you know." Dropping the quill down upon the desk, she reached to snatch up another file and, turning to stride towards Theodore's cell door, added: "I'll be taking these home with me, by the way."

Duncan let out a low whistle.

"Just how wicked are you?" he wondered, and the pink haired witch was quick to offer him an exaggerated wink and murmured:

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Theodore hurriedly retreated to his corner and was just dropping down into a crouch when the door opened and the witch stepped inside, reaching to push the door firmly shut behind her.

"Alright, Cherub?" she greeted brightly, and though he managed little more than to stare at her, he felt relieved to see her, to know that she truly had kept her word and would help him.

As she went to drop down to sit in front of him, Dora looked the child up and down. He seemed far less jumpy than he had been during her last visit, yet he was still painfully shy. The witch refused to be deterred, however, as she reached to extract a pencil from her pocket.

"Give you some lunch, did they?" she asked, and the boy gave the smallest of nods. "Good stuff! What did you have? Wasn't the soup, was it? Can't stand that stuff, myself...no? Good...right then, we're going to have a little chat, you and me, about your Aunt..." she paused to open the file and squint at it for a long moment before identifying: "Aunt _Eliza_ and Uncle Augustus. Alright, Cherub?"

Theodore wasn't entirely sure that he thought this was alright in the slightest, but he managed a feeble nod anyway. Tonks leant to stretch her legs out before her, file balanced carefully upon her lap as she reached to extract a clean piece of parchment from the back of the papers.

"So, how long have you been living with Aunt Eliza and Uncle Augustus?" she wondered, reaching to sweep a stray few strands of pink hair from her eyes, and there was a long pause before it occurred to Theodore that he ought reply to her.

"Um...forever, I think." he managed to mumble, feeling a little nervous when Tonks immediately began to scrawl notes upon the parchment.

"That's a pretty long time." the witch observed, as if she were in some way impressed, and then she asked: "And they're not your real aunt and uncle, are they? You're...adopted? They adopted you?"

"I suppose."

"So...what about before forever? Before you were adopted, d'you know anything about that? What about Mum and Dad?"

Theodore frowned deeply, reaching to hug his knees to his chest.

"I don't know anything about my dad." he mumbled, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "Only...only my mum."

"Yeah? What was Mum like?"

"Ugly." Theodore recalled, failing not to sound rather sad about this fact. "That's what Aunt Eliza says, anyway. She says Mum had an _ugly, pinched face_, and she was _all pale and odd looking_."

"I shouldn't take much notice of Aunt Eliza, you know." the witch said, resisting the urge to reach and pat the boy comfortingly upon the arm. "Muggles usually reckon people like us are odd looking."

"Maybe...but I think...I think Aunt Eliza's right. I bet Mum was ugly. On...on the inside at least." Theodore frowned deeply, slumping sideways until his head came to rest upon the cool stone wall.

"How'd you figure that one out?"

"Well she must be, mustn't she? If she'd just...just didn't want me and abandoned me like that..."

Theodore glanced up to see Tonks purse her lips together thoughtfully for a long moment before she told him:

"You know, Cherub, things like that are rarely as...as simple as you think."

"Do you have children?" the boy asked, failing not to sound a little accusing, and immediately regretted it because the witch flinched.

Dora felt rather as though she had been punched in the stomach.

And yet, that was the point, she realised as she shifted her feet uneasily. She was supposed to feel that way, supposed to overcome it...

"I did, once." she told the boy, grip upon the pencil she was holding tightening resolutely. "I...I had a little boy." she managed to glance sideways at the child as she said: "And I'd not have given him up for the world. But you know...I reckon my husband would've. At the time, anyway. But that doesn't make him a bad person, it makes him human. It was a...difficult time, not a good time to be having a baby really, he wasn't sure we'd cope and I think he thought his son would...well that he would've been better off if he wasn't _his_ son. And he thought that because he loved him, you know, so...so I don't think you can just assume anything, about parents or what they do."  
"But you kept him, in the end?"  
"Oh yes, yes we did. He was utterly wonderful. We absolutely adored him."  
"Then what happened?"

Theodore watched the witch's gaze drift mournfully towards the ceiling and she murmured:

"We...lost him. He...he died..."

"That's dreadfully sad." the boy observed solemnly, feeling quite guilty for asking, and he was quick to inform her: "I think you'd have made a nice mum."

Dora forced the despair from her face and shot the child a wink.

"Yeah? After another cup of hot chocolate, are you?" She managed a vague snigger before returning to the task at hand. "So, how did Mum know Aunt Eliza and Uncle Augustus, then?"

"She didn't." Theodore said, not sure whether returning to their original conversation was worse of better than the morbid road they had been heading down. "She just...gave me to them...they were in the car, it was raining terribly and Uncle Augustus nearly ran her over! And then she just...she just gave me to Aunt Eliza and disappeared. Uncle Augustus says she was the strangest woman he's ever met...very odd and very rude..."

"Gosh, how dramatic!" the witch exclaimed, as if it were all very exciting, and in an odd way Theodore supposed it rather was. It was the sort of story one would want to tell other children in the playground at school, have them stare at you in awe and childish envy of something that in truth nobody could every possibly desire. And yet he had never really thought about it like that before, what with never having been to a normal school.

"So," Tonks said, scribbling notes down upon the parchment as if her life depended on it. "Mum gave you to Aunt Eliza and Uncle Augustus, and you've lived with them ever since?"

"Um...almost." Theodore mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, feeling nerves erupt through his stomach when Tonks shot him a questioning look. "I um...I ran away..." he admitted, voice so quiet that she didn't quite catch it.

"What was that?" she asked, leaning forward a little, and Theodore's gaze dropped shamefully to his shoes as he mumbled:

"I...I ran away..."

"You ran away from home?"  
"Y...yes..." Theodore pursed his lips together worriedly at the thought of what she might have to say about this revelation. Goodness, as if he hadn't been in enough trouble already! What on earth did it look like, him running away from his aunt and uncle, stealing their money and jumping on a train...

"Cool," the pink haired woman observed brightly, and the boy instantly looked up at her in surprise. "I tried to run away from home once when I was your age." she recalled, "I was sick of my mum insisting I eat brussel sprouts...I can't stand brussel sprouts! What's your excuse, hm?"

"Nana died..." Theodore whispered dejectedly, and he heard Tonks draw in a deep, sympathetic breath before she scribbled his miserable confession down upon the parchment and wondered:

"And then what? You've not been on your own, have you?"

"I...I met some...some boys. They...they've been looking after me."

"Right...and what're their names, these boys?"

Theodore instantly fell silent.

"C'mon, Cherub." the witch told him after a long pause, stifling a yawn into the sleeve of her long scarlet robes. "I've got to go and have dinner with my boss and get myself out of his bad books for taking your case on. What d'you reckon he'll say if I get there late and the roast's stone cold? Just tell me their names and I can go and get on with grovelling."

Theodore chewed nervously upon his lip for a moment before mumbling:

"I...I don't want to get them into trouble or...or anything..."

"Nobody's going to get into any more trouble than they deserve. And there's nothing wrong with that now, is there? That's fair, which is more than you can say for most of life."

Theodore contemplated this for another long, despairing moment, before mumbling:

"Dom, AJ and...and Andy...I...I don't know their last names."

Tonks puffed her cheeks thoughtfully as she scribbled the names down upon the parchment, assuring the boy:

"That'll do for now...except...can you give me an address for your aunt and uncle?"

Theodore's eyes widened in alarm and he sat bolt upright, the colour beginning to drain from his face.

"I...I don't want...they can't find out I..."

"Relax, Sweetheart." the witch told him, putting down her pencil and offering him a reassuring smile. "Nobody's going to tell them you've done anything wrong. I'd have to prove it, for one thing, can't just go around accusing people of all sorts, can I? Everybody's innocent until proven otherwise..."

"I...I won't tell you!" Theodore cried, voice raised an octave in panic. "I...I won't, I won't!"

As the child slid sideways down onto the floor, curling up into a tight ball, Dora suppressed a heavy sigh. She reached to set the papers and the pencil down upon the floor beside her and reached to fold her hands calmly in her lap, waiting for the sudden bout of hysteria to pass. When Theodore's muffled protests had descended into a pitiful sob into his hands, the Auror reached to lay a careful hand upon the child's arm.

"I'm sure they're very worried about you, Cherub." she reasoned soothingly. "They must miss you terribly, just think how glad they'd be to know that you're safe..."

"No, no...no they won't...no..."

"Of course they will. Let me tell them your safe, eh? You don't even have to see them! The amount of paperwork I'd have to do to get a couple of muggles down here...did I ever tell you how much I hate paperwork? Mind-numbingly boring, it is, I can't be bothered with it..."

"No...I...I won't tell, I won't..."

"Are you worried they're angry with you? Because I'm sure they'll be more relieved than anything else..."

"No, no, no..."

Theodore felt the hand slip from his shoulder and to his surprise, Tonks merely murmured:

"Well...if your _sure_. Never mind, eh?"

The sudden tearing of paper made the boy jump, and he withdrew in face for his arms just in time to see the witch finish tearing a sheet of parchment in two, and she was about to tear it into quarters when he hurriedly asked:

"W...what are you doing?"

"Hm?" she paused in her enthusiastic destruction of the papers before telling him: "Well we won't be needing these notes here anymore."

"What...what notes?"

"I made them this afternoon. Because I was thinking, you know, what with you being brought up by muggles and everything the Wizengamot might go easier with you, you might not get into so much trouble..."  
"Wh...what..."

"I mean you don't know much about the Wizarding World, being brought up by muggles. I'd have pointed that out the the Wizengamot for you, you see, because then they would've realised you didn't plan to steal that cabinet on your own. Since you wouldn't even know anything about it..."

"B...but...but why would you tear that up? I...it's true, isn't it?"

"Well it might be. But then it might not be, mightn't it? Because you know, I can't prove that your aunt and uncle are muggles, not if I can't go and see them. But never mind, eh? I'm sure we'll come up with something else...probably..."

As she set about ripping the parchment in half again, Theodore flinched.

"No!" he cried, scrambling back up into a sitting position. "No, wait! Don't...don't tear it up..."

"No?" Dora asked, pausing mid-tear, and she barely suppressed a smile when the child insisted:

"Please don't tear them up, I'll...I'll tell you where they are, I will, I promise!"

The witch made a show of eying the ruined documents in exasperation before throwing them aside and reaching to snatch up her pencil.

"Let's have it then, Cherub." she suggested as the boy let out a sigh of relief. "I'm running pretty late as it is."

"Bridle Lane." Theodore mumbled hurriedly. "Number Seven Bridle Lane, Crayton...H...Hampshire...that's...that's it..."

And so it was that a few minutes later, Dora Lupin left the cell, case files complete with the address held triumphantly in one hand, torn up parchment in the other. She tossed the blank scraps of parchment unceremoniously upon Duncan's desk with a broad grin.

"What's this?" Duncan asked irritably as he eyed the parchment with a deep frown, and as she strode off down the corridor, the Auror called back to him:

"It's top marks on my Negotiation and Reasoning exams, that's what."


	13. Double Acts

_Note: As requested (quite ridiculously, or so I thought at the time) by **Natalie**, here is another update before New Year! In fact, here's another update before Christmas! Impressed? I thought as much..._

_**I'd like to take a moment to wish all my readers a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! **_

_I was aiming to write two festive one shots, but at the moment I've only managed one. I managed to cram quite a lot of different things into the one story, however, so for any fans of the Meet the... 'ficverse, your luck is in! It's called **Meet the Elves**, if anybody's interested! I'll be posting it later today, if I remember to do so! It's the first Christmas 'fic I've ever written, so I hope you like that as much as this chapter here...assuming of course that you DO like this chapter..._

_Anyway, festive ramblings over with, let's get on with the show..._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this piece of writing._

**13: Double Acts**

Augustus Beddington was having a very bad week to say the least, and as he sat in his armchair with his morning newspaper, watching his wife glower down at him, hands balled into tight fists, he couldn't see things improving much any time soon.

"I WANT one!" Eliza shrieked, giving her foot a furious little stamp. "And I don't see why we can't have one!"

"Come now, Eliza dear," Augustus protested wearily, "we can't possibly buy a grand piano...for one thing we've nowhere to put it..."  
"It can go in the boy's room!"

"Of course it couldn't, it wouldn't fit..."

"Oh yes it would! If we got rid of the bed..."

"Oh? And where do you suppose he'll sleep after that? In the airing cupboard?"

"He won't be sleeping anywhere, Gus, he's gone!"

Augustus turned the page of his paper with such force that he very nearly ripped it down the middle.

"It's only the third day, for goodness sake!" he grumbled. "He'll be back, the police'll find him, mark my words..."

"I don't want him back!" Eliza cried, face contorting in distaste at the very idea. "I won't have that ungrateful, freakish little thing back in this house again! Absolutely not!"

"Yes, I know dear, but..."

"Are you saying you want him back? He STOLE FROM US!"

"Goodness, no! No, I'm glad to see the back of him! Of course I am, disgraceful little runt of a boy! But the fact of the matter is, Eliza, that Theodore is a very strange and abnormal child! He'll stick out like a sore thumb, wherever he is, and the police will find him and march him straight back here, whether we want him or not!"

Eliza gave a irritated little huff.

"Well let them!" she spat, stomping over to glare aimlessly out of the window into the back garden. "Let them bring him back here, Gus, it won't make any difference! I'll have him carted off to some orphanage the other end of the country within hours! Let some other people put up with the little beggar! At least they'll be paid for it!"

Augustus was just drawing in yet another weary breath to reason further with his wife when their discussion was interrupted by a knock upon the door.

Eliza let out a huff of irritation at the interruption and as she stomped out of the sitting room and down the hallway, Augustus found himself musing that she'd probably be after a butler next.

Eliza paused when she reached the front door in order to smooth a crease from the front of her dress and to fix a suitably amiable expression upon her face. She took a deep, composed breath, and reached to open the door.

Two people stood upon the doorstep, the first a woman with sleek, choppy hair that appeared to be a dark shade of midnight blue, the second, stood behind her, a tall man dressed in a pale suit, his tie loosened and collar unbuttoned in the bright morning sun.

"Mrs. Beddington?" the woman asked, extracting a hand from the pocket of her leather jacket and straightening up a little, and Eliza tore herself away from musing that they made a rather odd pair to mumble:

"Yes...?"

"Excellent," the woman exclaimed, sounding far more business-like than Eliza could ever imagine somebody with blue hair sounding, and with that she stuck out a hand and informed the muggle: "Dora Lupin, Mrs. Beddington. We're here to have a little chat about your nephew Theodore, if you wouldn't mind?"

As Eliza consented to a handshake, she hastily plastered her most charming smile upon her face as she asked:

"I see...and you're with the police, I suppose? Do you have any news of him? Goodness, my husband and I have been simply sick with worry..." Not waiting for a response she turned to call over her shoulder: "Gus, darling, it's the police, they might have news of Theodore!"

Augustus appeared beside her in a flash and he hurriedly ushered her backwards to allow their visitors in as he greeted:

"Good morning, thank goodness you're here, we've been so terribly anxious! Come in, come in..."

"I'm sure you have, Mr. Beddington." Dora Lupin agreed as she and her companion stepped across the threshold, wiping their shoes upon the doormat, and Eliza very nearly let out a snort of disbelief, but instead asked:

"Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"No thank you, Mrs. Beddington." the man said as Augustus led the way towards the sitting room.

"It's such a dreadful, dreadful business!" he was telling Dora as she followed him into the room and took a seat upon the sofa. "You see our nephew, bless him, well...well he's a very troubled boy..."

"Disturbed, even!" Eliza interjected despairingly as she watched the man sit down and set about extracting a notepad and a pencil from his pocket.

"Yes, as we told PC Rawcliffe just yesterday, he's very disturbed!" Augustus agreed.

"Yes, we've spoken to PC Rawcliffe, haven't we?" Dora said with a glance sideways at the man sat beside her, and he looked up and agreed:

"That's right. He suggested we come and speak to you. We're far more experienced with dealing with children like Theodore than he is, you see."

"Disturbed children, you mean?"

"That's right, Mrs. Beddington." Dora smiled assuringly, only for Augustus to attempt to clarify:

"So, you're a psychologist?"

Dora Lupin hesitated for a brief moment, frowning ever so slightly, before she jabbed a finger at the man sat next to her and decided:

"No, that would be Remus here."

When both Augustus and Eliza failed not to raise an eyebrow at such an unusual name, Remus cleared his throat and informed them:

"Unfortunately I had rather eccentric parents."

"My eldest brother read psychology at university." Augustus recalled as he sat down in his armchair. "Where did you study?"

Remus Lupin could feel his face reddening. He was about to preoccupy himself with the thought that allowing his wife to drag him over here really had been a stupid idea when he realised he'd been asked a question.

"Um..." _Muggle universities...muggle universities... _"nowhere important..." _He didn't know much about them, for Merlin's sake...in fact he only knew the names of a couple... _"I went to..." _there was __a really old one in Oxbridge...wherever that was, in fact he was pretty sure there was no such place...or there might have been one in Cambridge maybe, or... yes that had been the one:_ "Oxford."

Dora instantly turned to look at him as if he had said something terribly dim, which he couldn't help but feel was immensely unfair because this whole mess was entirely her fault, and Eliza Beddington let out a squeaky little chuckle and exclaimed:

"_Oxford_! _Nowhere important_...!"

And Dora sniggered and agreed:

"Very funny."

Remus wanted to scowl at her, but supposed that wouldn't be terribly appropriate, so instead he turned his attention back to the notebook upon his lap and, desperate for some form of distraction, set about writing the day's date at the top of the page. He rather wished that Dora wasn't making their whole cover story up as she went along, indeed he had told her so just after breakfast when they'd been stood in their hallway, she eying her collection of shoes as if selecting the correct pair was of vital importance.

_It'll be fine, trust me_, she'd said, waving a dismissive hand in a manner that he'd strongly suspected meant that she wasn't really listening to him. Remus had muttered to himself that Alastor Moody would've been ashamed, which she had apparently heard perfectly well because she'd turned to eye him critically before instructing:

_Go and put a suit on. _

Remus hadn't bothered to argue with her, in fact he was making an effort not to interfere in the slightest. He would sit beside her and write down anything interesting that was said, and that would be it. It was Dora's job, Dora's case, Dora's decision to break the rules...

Not that he wouldn't be in an unspeakable amount of trouble too if Minister Shacklebolt, or anybody else at the Ministry for that matter, found out that he was here.

Dora had thought his resolute refusal to truly join in highly amusing, and had bet him the washing up that night after dinner that he would fail not to ask the Beddingtons a question or two.

_You're going to start betting on it?_ Remus had asked when they had finally left the house, and when she'd cheerily replied in the positive he'd once again suggested to her that such a notion would have Moody turning in his grave.

_Rubbish_, Dora had protested, reaching to tuck her hand into the crook of his arm._ Mad-Eye would've loved it! He used to place bets with the Auror cadets all the time, anything to make us give a hundred and ten percent..._

Apparently the virtues of giving a hundred and ten percent had been well and truly drilled into Dora's head, for despite her amusement at her husband's blunder the Auror cleared her throat seriously and inquired:

"I wonder, Mr. and Mrs. Beddington, if you could tell us a bit more about Theodore. Has he always been a...disturbed child?"

"Oh yes, yes he's always been very strange." Augustus said, nodded his head vigorously. "He's always behaved very oddly..."

"Could you give us an example?" Dora asked, and the two muggles exchanged a worried glance.

"Well...well he...he's just very strange..." Augustus murmured rather reluctantly. "We've had to hire a nanny, you know, he can't possibly go to school, he's much too odd..."

"I see..." Dora murmured, apparently grasping quite a lot from this attempt to dodge her question. "And...does he lose his temper much? Is he often angry or upset?"

"I'd say he gets upset more than angry." Eliza murmured, nose wrinkling a little as she admitted: "He's a rather...bland child."

"I see, and when he is upset how does he behave? Would you say that he is...more odd when he is upset?"

Again the Beddingtons exchanged a worried glance, before Augustus managed to mumble:  
"Well...yes, yes I think...I think I would say that..."

Dora leant forward a little in her chair, voice dropped to a murmur as if somebody might overhear their conversation.

"Has he ever had any...accidents when he is upset? Has he ever...broken something, perhaps, or...or done something out of the ordinary?" When Augustus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, she told him: "Mr. Beddington it really is very important that you tell us everything, we need to know what we are dealing with, after all. I shouldn't be embarrassed or worried if I were you, there's not a whole lot that can shock us, believe me."

There was a sizeable pause as Augustus eyed his shoes and Eliza fiddled with the hem of her cardigan, lips pursed firmly together as if she were bursting to speak, and eventually she drew in an audible breath and half-squeaked:

"My antique mirror!"

Augustus' gaze snapped up to stare at her in horror, but she seemingly didn't notice.

"The m...mirror it...it used to hang on the wall out there...by...by the stairs. It was...it was a wedding present and...and Theodore smashed it..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Augustus interrupted, offering the witch and wizard sat upon his sofa a rather nervous smile. "She's being ridiculous, as I've always said, it couldn't possibly of been him..."

"Then who was it?" Eliza cried, voice quite shrill and agitated. "And I asked him, didn't I? I asked him and he said it was him, he was awfully frightened by it..." The muggle turned to look at Remus and Dora with wide eyes as she explained: "It was just last year, Theodore had been looking in the newspaper, there was an advert for Barty's...St. Bartholomew's School, down the road in Lenfield. Mrs. Plume, she was his nanny, she'd been putting daft ideas into his head again, he wanted to take the entrance exam for Year Seven. He came downstairs to ask if we would take him, but of course we said no...and then...well...well..."

"Spit it out if you must!" Augustus snapped, and his wife gave a little shudder before composing herself.

"Obviously the poor boy was very upset." she said after a deep, calming breath. "We were in here, Gus was reading his paper and I was painting my nails. He came just inside the door there, and asked us if we would take him up to Barty's the following Monday so that he could take the exam. We told him he couldn't possibly think of going to a school like St. Bartholomew's, or any school for that matter, we'd get him a tutor for his secondary education, just as he had before. He didn't protest much but he sobbed something dreadful, and then...then he turned and went to run back to his bedroom...he hadn't taken more than a couple of steps out into the hallway when there was a terrible crash! And...and the mirror...the mirror had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces!"

"But Theodore wasn't anywhere near the mirror at the time?"

"No, nowhere near at all! But he was awfully frightened by it, he told me it was him, that he'd broken the mirror..."

"As we've been saying," Augustus murmured, voice beginning to sound rather hostile. "He's very disturbed."

"Well," Dora said, leaning back in her seat and reaching to straighten her jacket, "believe it or not, we've heard stranger. In fact incidents such as that are more common than you think."

"Really?" Augustus murmured, sounding rather disbelieving, and Dora shot him the most charming smile that she could muster. It was rather difficult, the witch would have to admit, because she hadn't liked him a great deal from the moment that she had first set eyes upon him.

Indeed, the Auror didn't think much of Eliza Beddington either. They were alarmingly false...

A bit like Dora and Remus, in fact. This whole visit was a complete sham on both sides, it just so happened that the witch and wizard seemed to be the only ones aware that there was a great deal of acting on on from both parties.

And if it were a competition, Dora would have to conclude that she and Remus were certainly winning. That wasn't being biased, the Auror thought smugly as she reached to tuck a stray strand of dark blue hair behind one ear, because the cracks upon the Beddington's fair facade were beginning to show. Their concern for their darling little nephew was becoming increasingly tarnished by their apparent horror of his abnormality.

Dora couldn't seem to help but think of Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

The witch glanced sideways at her husband as he scrawled notes down upon the paper, and she asked:

"Getting all this?"

"Mm..." came the vague response, and for a moment Dora allowed herself to become distracted by her irritation that Remus appeared to be sticking to his vow of silence. The witch hastily turned her attention back to the muggles.

"There's speculation down at the police station that Theodore might have gone looking for his real parents." she decided, having dreamt up this piece of news just half a second earlier. "That's quite common, for orphan runaways. Does he know much about them, where they might be, perhaps?"

"Nobody knows where they are." Augustus grunted, truly bad-tempered this time. "Or indeed who they are...his mother simply dumped the boy on us, you know!"

"_Dumped_...?" Dora repeated, frowning deeply at such a negative choice of word, and Eliza nodded vigorously, her nose scrunched up as if she had smelt something rotten.

"That's right!" the woman exclaimed. "It was dreadful, wasn't it Gus? Just lumbering two strangers with your baby, what sort of respectable, decent and normal woman would do that?"

_Lumbered_, Dora repeated silently, resisting the urge to scowl. At the sound of pencil upon paper again she glanced sideways to discover that Remus appeared to think this terminology worthy of note.

The witch rose abruptly to her feet, making both muggles jump.

"Would it be possible for us to see Theodore's bedroom?" she asked, offering Eliza another terribly charming smile, the sort that had made Alastor Moody grunt irritably and tell her to _wipe that sickening look_ off her face.

"Oh..." Eliza murmured as Remus pocketed pencil and notepad and got to his feet too. "I...well yes, yes of course...it's just upstairs..."

Augustus looked rather flustered by this sudden development as his visitors made a beeline for the hallway, and he had barely reached the sitting room doorway before they had set off up the stairs, Eliza hurrying after them.

"This one straight ahead?" Dora called briskly back down over her shoulder.

"Yes, that's the one..." Eliza began, only for Remus to pause upon the stairs, turning to look down at her rather solemnly.

"It's alright, Mrs. Beddington, we'll be fine looking on our own. We know this must be terribly difficult for you."

"Oh..." Eliza murmured, face flushed pink. "I...well...yes, yes of course it is..."

"You mustn't worry," the wizard told her kindly as Dora reached to open the bedroom door. "Everybody is doing all they can, we'll have your nephew back soon enough, I'm sure."

"We certainly hope so!" Eliza told him, and once he had disappeared into the bedroom after his wife, reaching to push the door firmly closed behind him, Remus finally consented to muttering:

"I confess I rather doubt that."

"So," Dora murmured as Remus reached to draw his wand, casting a mumbled _muffliato_ over the closed door. "What d'you think?"

The werewolf turned to regard his wife with a sarcastically raised eyebrow as he told her:

"They're obviously absolutely distraught."

Dora gave a soft snort.

"Obviously." she muttered, folding her arms firmly across his chest. "They really are disgusted by him, aren't they?" she observed with a sigh, and as his eyes roamed searchingly over the rather sparse room, the werewolf murmured:

"They wouldn't be the only ones."

"I know it's not uncommon, I mean it'd probably freak me out too if I were them, but...c'mon, that little boy! I don't give a toss if he sprouts devil horns once a week, I couldn't possibly be disgusted by a kid like him if I tried!"

"His nanny, she died you said?"

"That's right. That's why he left, or so he says."

Remus wandered over to the little writing desk in the corner and set about opening each drawer in turn, finding little besides pens, paper and school textbooks.

"Well," her murmured as he closed the final drawer with a soft click. "If he gets out of this mess with the cabinet, there's one thing for sure."

"What's that?" Dora asked as she gazed around the room, frowning deeply at the lack of toys save for a couple of abandoned home-made sock puppets and a small child-sized guitar which appeared to be missing a couple of strings.

Remus crossed the room and reached to pull open the enormous wardrobe, finding it absolutely stuffed full of clothes.

"He won't be coming back here." he said, and with that he reached into his pocket and extracted a small, screwed up plastic bag. The wizard grasped hold of the bag by it's handles and gave it a firm shake, and it promptly unfurled itself to be five times it's original size. "Let's get some of his stuff to take back and get out of here." he suggested, as if he found their current business distinctly unpleasant, and with that he reached to grab a few pairs of carefully folded trousers and put them in the bag.

The two of them took a good few minutes marvelling over the child's vast collection of clothes in comparison to his meagre little pile of toys, before carefully selecting a small range of clothes and rearranging what was left in an attempt to hide their stealing. Without much thought, Dora snatched up the two glove puppets and shoved them in the bag too, and with that they cast one last despairing glance around the room before heading back downstairs.

They arrived back in the hallway to hear hushed voices in sitting room, and as they made their way to the doorway they caught the end of what sounded to be quite an agitated little debate.

"Are you quite sure?"

"Yes, yes! I've told you, Eliza, that was definitely it!"

"You are absolutely certain?"

"Yes! Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"Well...it was a long time ago!"

"Well I'm hardly going to forget anything from a night like that, am I?"

Augustus Beddington's voice had very nearly risen to a shout, only for him to spot Dora and Remus in the doorway, causing him to halt abruptly and plaster a smile onto his face.

"Well," Dora said as Eliza spun around to face them, her expression identical to that which she had worn upon first opening the front door. "That's about all, for now Mr. and Mrs. Beddington. Thank you very much for your time."

"I'll...I'll see you out, shall I?" Eliza suggested sweetly, hurrying towards them, and Remus murmured:

"That would be very kind."

"Goodbye Mr. Beddington." Dora called, gaze lingering on the man somewhat curiously having interrupted his outburst. "I daresay we'll be seeing you again."

Augustus Beddington looked quite alarmed.

Dora didn't care.

As she and Remus followed Eliza to the door, all manner of questions began to surface in her mind as Dora wondered what the two muggles had been talking about. There was no doubt that she and Remus would be discussing the countless possibilities in the coming hours, she mused, and yet as they stepped out onto the driveway and turned to bid Eliza Beddington goodbye, the muggle was about to provide them with another piece of information that would turn their entire day, indeed perhaps their entire lives, upside down.

Glancing back over her shoulder seemingly to check that her husband was out of earshot, Eliza Beddington leant forward towards the couple, her eyes wide as snitches.

"What about his hair?" she whispered, voice barely audible as a car rumbled past down the road towards town. "Is...is that...is that common too? Have you...have you heard that lots of times before?"

"What about his hair, Mrs. Beddington?" Dora asked, and the muggle shuffled forwards until there were mere inches between the two women.

"He can change it!" she hissed, "He can change his hair, make it look any way he wants, just by thinking of it! Have...have you ever heard of such a thing? Is...is that...is that common?"

Both witch and wizard were stunned into silence for a very long while indeed.

Eliza Beddington looked from face to face, alarmed at their surprise.

"I...I'm not...I'm not mad you know," she protested, reaching to grasp fistfuls of hair in agitation. "I'm not mad! It's...it's true, it really is!"

Remus reached to grasp hold of his wife by the elbow, as if to steady himself as he cleared his throat.

"Oh we know, Mrs. Beddington," he murmured as Dora's hand reached to cover his own. "We certainly have heard of such a thing...but it's not common..."

"No..." Dora agreed a little weakly. "It's not common at all..."


	14. The Truth

_Note: A (short!) chapter before Christmas because I was pestered relentlessly by so many of you! _

_This was one of the most difficult chapters I have ever written, and I apologise in advance if it has gone horribly wrong! I did intend to write more, but really I don't have the time to write everything I had in mind in time for Christmas, or even New Year! So I'm splitting the chapter in half, to give you all something to read! Also, it being terribly rushed, I apologise for any errors that may be present – I haven't the time to check thoroughly right now! You have only yourselves to blame for making such ridiculous (yet very flattering) demands of my time! XD_

_I was so delighted by all the reviews for the previous chapter! Thank you all so very much for taking the time to write to me!_

_I know you all love the very creative chapter title here...!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**14: The Truth**

Remus Lupin had always been keen on organisation, on procedure, on clear method. On making sure that things made sense, that nothing was left to get out of hand.

Not that such things had always been kind to him, of course, but at least with strict rules and clear guidelines one always knew exactly where they stood.

And yet...

Damn organisation. Damn procedure and bloody rules, damn the whole bloody lot of it because it was utterly unbearable and he simply couldn't stand it, couldn't face sitting here, watching his wife wear holes into the carpet as she paced back and forth, whilst he sat rigid in his chair, drowning in procedure and being suffocated by such desperate longing that he felt quite faint from it.

"How long does it take them to look up a date in a book?" he murmured, for being silent was too much for him just then, and Dora's steps became stomps as she muttered:

"Too bloody long...if they weren't so bloody keen on doing stuff properly...!"

"I know, you would've checked by now."

"I'd have triple checked! The Metamorphmagus Register isn't under lock and key, you know, it's like the Animagus Register, you don't need to apply to see it...what in Merlin's name is taking them so long?"

It was at that precise moment that the fireplace behind her leapt into life, and Dora spun around so quickly to face it that she very nearly tripped over her own feet.

The emerald flames gave a crackling splutter, and a slightly singed looking envelope came shooting out of the fire.

It struck Dora square in the face. The witch didn't flinch. As the envelope, complete with official Ministry of Magic seal fluttered down to rest upon the carpet, she shuffled back a step and stared down at it.

Remus rose slowly from his chair and came to stand beside her. The two of them gazed down at the envelope in silence for a very long moment before Dora mumbled:

"Well I'm not opening it."

Remus frowned. If he were honest, he didn't really want to be the one to open the envelope either.

It had been two hours since the couple had wandered in a daze back through their front door, both making a beeline for the kettle and the teapot. They'd briefly contemplated something stronger, but had jointly concluded that it was too early in the day. They'd sat silently at the dining table for a while, clutching mugs of tea and quite forgetting to drink them until they had grown cold.

_We should...check_, Dora had finally decided, and Remus hadn't dared asked her precisely what needed checking because the words just wouldn't form upon his tongue.

But he had managed to nod agreement: _Yes, we should check..._

And so Dora had scribbled a note to the Ministry and gone to fling it into the floo, and then they'd taken their places in the sitting room.

Then they'd spent near on an hour mumbling to one another until they had themselves quite convinced:

It can't be.

It simply can't.

Theodore Beddington was not their son. He wasn't their Teddy, not their little boy...

It was utter madness. A horrible coincidence. The name, the age, the morphing...

Because it simply had to be. How could it possibly be anything but a coincidence, no matter how big? Helpless infants didn't just escape Lord Voldemort's clutches, it just didn't happen...

Except it did. It had done...

But this wasn't like Harry, Dora had pointed out. It wasn't like Harry at all, Harry hadn't been helpless, he'd had help, he'd had Lily.

He'd had his mother.

And what had Teddy had? Two absent parents and an entirely oblivious grandmother. No, their little boy had been alone, he hadn't stood a chance.

Dora might have wept with shame at this conclusion had she not been so intent on her pacing. Her jaw had clenched against tears and Remus' gaze had fallen to his shoes, despairing at the thought that in the past decade barely a day passed without his wife taking a moment to remind herself of her fatal mistake.

Sometimes he was convinced that she truly did hate herself.

Almost a full minute of staring at the envelope passed before it occurred to Remus that at some point somebody was going to have to pick it up.

The werewolf decided to do the decent thing, and so he stooped to pick up the envelope. Numbly, he glanced at Dora's name written neatly upon the envelope before turning it over to break the wax seal.

Sweet Merlin, he thought as he carefully pulled the envelope open, making Dora flinch as she watched him intently, the shock had only just started to dull, their reasoning had only just started to calm him down, only for his nerves to erupt again in a burst of emerald flame...

What if they were wrong? What if...what if...

The slip of paper came free from the envelope with ease, and before he could unfold it, Dora reached to grab hold of him by the elbow.

"Let's...let's sit down..." she whispered, tugging him back towards the sofa and they dropped down upon the sofa, her head coming to rest against his shoulder.

Once again, they simply stared.

"So...he'd...he'd definitely be on the register, wouldn't he?" Remus mumbled. He knew the answer, and Dora knew it, but she answered anyway, a way to fill time, prolong the inevitable.

"That's right," she said, reaching to hug his arm to her chest. "It's like the magic quill at Hogwarts. All metamorphmagi are recorded by the Ministry automatically at birth."

"Right..." Remus wondered if he might say something else just then, but he couldn't really think of anything. He had no choice but to unfold the slip of paper. He busied himself with making it as flat as possible before finally resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to read it.

_As requested, the recorded births in the Metamorphmagus Registry for the year 1998 in their entirety are as follows:_

_**10th April **_

_**Full Name:** Theodore Remus Lupin_

_**Gender:** Male_

_**Born to:** Remus John Lupin & Nymphadora Andromeda Lupin, nee Tonks. _

_**Current Status: **Recorded Discrepancy._

_**End of records.**_

Remus simply stared.

"Is...is that it?" he mumbled eventually, staring down at the single record in shock. "There's...there's only...only Teddy...?"

"There's only Teddy." Dora confirmed, eyes rather glazed as she too stared at the parchment. After a moment she leant forward until her nose almost brushed the surface of the note, eyes narrowing as she wondered: "You'd think they'd tell us, wouldn't you? That's there's a discrepancy on our son's record, I mean..."

"Maybe nobody noticed if it's automated." Remus mused, reaching to tuck an arm around the witch's shoulders. "It's not as if anybody would ever have a reason to look him up..."

"But you had him declared dead!" Dora cried, sitting back so abruptly that she slammed his arm into the back of the sofa, making him wince. "You went to the Ministry, didn't you? After the War you...you went to the Ministry and filled out the forms...!" Her gaze when she turned it upon him was distinctly accusing, and he found himself leaning away from her a little.

"Of course I did..."

"You did fill them out properly, didn't you?"

"Of course...the clerk checked everything..."

"Then why...?" Dora trailed off into silence and for a long moment the couple simply stared at one another.

"Because..." Remus eventually theorized slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe himself. "Because you...because you can't declare somebody dead if...if..."

"If they're still alive." Dora finished for him.

Deathly silence.

As Remus let the note fall into his lap, she reached to grasp hold of him firmly by the hand, eyes screwed shut as she whispered: "Sweet Merlin I...I just...I don't think I can...that...that boy...that little boy they've got in that cell isn't my son, he...he isn't...he just can't be...I...I'd know if he was! I'd know my son if I saw him..."

"I knew him when I saw him. I swear I did...for a second at least." Remus reminded her stiffly, and at this reminder the Auror slumped forwards, her face buried in the front of his shirt.

"I don't feel well..." she admitted, grip upon his hand tightening until it was painful.

"Perhaps you should lie down..." Remus mumbled, feeling quite faint himself, and abruptly Dora threw back her head and let out a somewhat hysterical shout of laughter.

"Our son we've thought dead for a decade is in actual fact alive and...and you think I should LIE DOWN?"

Remus battled against the overwhelming sense of shock to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Well no...no, not really..." he managed, and if she hadn't felt so stunned by recent developments, Dora might very well have hit him.

It was at that precise moment that the two of them both realised something:

Dora had said it aloud. She'd actually said it...

Teddy, their precious little treasure, their darling little boy..._wasn't dead_.

He _wasn't dead_.

He was _alive_. Alive and healthy and well and...and...

And they'd _found him_! They'd found their child, they'd found their Teddy...

Remus felt utterly numb. He was pretty sure this was all some sort of dream, or that perhaps he had well and truly lost his mind. Because it was utterly unfathomable, completely incomprehensible...

But he'd play along anyway, he decided, because the swell of limitless joy in his chest was the most wonderful sensation in the world. It made him want to laugh, cry and scream at the top of his lungs all at once...but he felt so very overwhelmed that he wasn't sure which one he ought do first...

He was about to settle on laughter when his efforts were halted by Dora collapsing back against him, a garbled sob rising in her throat.

"O...oh Merlin...!" the witch cried, grasping hold of fistfuls of her husband's shirt, and he promptly threw his arms tightly around her and buried his face in her hair.

And there they stayed, their grip upon one another desperately tight, she sobbing with such happiness that it was quite unbearably dizzying, and he basking silently in pure joy, waiting to wake up...

Except half an hour later, Remus was still dreaming...

"Dora?" he whispered to the by now silent heap of witch sprawled halfway into his lap, and she withdrew her tear-stained face to gaze up at him, face oddly serene. The werewolf gave a nod over towards the hallway door, where some while earlier they had abandoned their coats and the bag stuffed full of Theodore's belongings. As Dora glanced out into the hall, Remus wondered: "Do you think...perhaps...perhaps we ought take our son some fresh clothes and...and a toy or two?"

For a moment, he thought she might burst into tears again, put instead she shuffled until she was sat upright, before leaning to press a firm kiss to his lips, and when she leant back again he found she was beaming.

"You know, Sweetheart." she told him, voice hoarse from her sobbing, "I think we might just do that."

Remus very nearly leapt to his feet.

"I'll get his bag!" he announced, feeling a sudden rush of excitement, and Dora scrambled up out of the chair, making an instant beeline for the kitchen.

"I'm going to get chocolate!" she exclaimed, only to pause in the kitchen doorway, frowning a little. "There's only dark left..." she recalled rather uncertainly. "D'you suppose he'd like dark chocolate?"

Remus was much too busy shrugging his coat back on and snatching up the bag full of clothes to answer, and as she watched him turn to frown at himself a little in the mirror opposite the front door, the witch grinned as she concluded: "Of _course_ he would...he'd eat anything that's been in the same room as a bar of chocolate, wouldn't he? After all _he's_ _your son_, isn't he Remus?" And with that she half-skipped into the kitchen, skidding to a halt as she reached to fling open the fridge, calling: "Did you hear that, Sweetheart? I said _he's your son, isn't he?_! Ha!" She reached to snatch up the chocolate, shoving it into her pocket, slammed the fridge shut in triumph before dashing back out into the hallway.

"Right then, let's go!" she cried, coming to stand at Remus' side to briefly scrutinise herself in the mirror. She promptly wished she hadn't, for she looked utterly dreadful.

Except of course it didn't matter, she didn't care, she simply had to get back to the Ministry, had to see him...had to see _her son_!

Sweet Merlin..._her_ son..._their_ son, _their Teddy_...!

Remus didn't move.

Dora reached to grasp hold of his hand, and set about giving him a firm tug towards the floo.

"Come on!" she cried, failing not to fidget impatiently, but when he refused to budge she sobered somewhat and reached to slide her arms around him, head coming to rest against his shoulder as they both gazed at themselves in the mirror. "What's the matter?" she asked as he pursed his lips together, expression wary.

"I...I don't know..." he admitted, frowning deeply. "I just...well...what if he...you know..."

"Don't finish that sentence." Dora interrupted firmly, turning to reach and cup his face in her hands so that she could stare up at him intently. "He's going to love you." she informed him, stern as if daring him to claim otherwise. "He will, your his dad."

"Well yes but...but what about when...when we sit him down to tell him all about us and...and he asks what Dad does and you tell him Dad doesn't really do anything and..."

"Oh Remus, stop it!" she cried, not sure whether to laugh or despair at his fretting. "Honestly, love, I don't think he's going to give a toss! He's got a father who loves him, what else could he possibly want?"

"It's not the same though, is it? If we'd always had him...well...well he'd be used to..._me_. But what's he going to think, us showing up and telling him he's got a werewolf for a father..."

"If he's anything like James and Albus he'll think it's _totally awesome_!" Dora said, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek. "Now come on! I'm not listening to any of this, it's daft and completely irrational!"

"Aren't you nervous too?" Remus wondered, reluctantly allowing her to tow him towards the fireplace.

"Utterly petrified." Dora admitted as she reached for the pot of floo powder, and with that she turned to offer him the pot, chuckling a little shakily as she suggested: "After you, then?"

Theodore Beddington was terribly tired. Although he had been presented with a surprisingly comfy mattress, a pillow and a odd assortment of blankets so that he could construct himself a bed, he had lain awake most of the night, listening to the shrieks of protest and rattling bars coming from the cell next door. Even once his fellow prisoner had quietened down for the night, Theodore had still struggled to fall asleep. He'd kept himself awake fretting over just what might happen when Tonks went to visit his aunt and uncle the next morning.

In fact Theodore had thought of little else all morning, too, and by the time the door to his cell was at long last pulled open, the boy had yet to decide whether or not waiting for Tonks to arrive or the prospect of actually seeing her was worse.

Tonks' entrance today differed greatly from every other time that she had come to visit. She took a rather hesitant step across the threshold and stood, gazing down at him for a very long moment, dark eyes scrutinising, and Theodore instantly felt nervous.

Eventually the Auror gave herself a visible little shake and a familiar grin broke out across her face as she greeted:

"Wotcher, Cherub! Did you sleep alright?"

"Yes thank you." Theodore lied, shuffling to sit a little straighter upon his mattress, and he felt quite relieved when the witch strode across the cramped little space to drop down beside him.

"Excellent!" she commented brightly, and then she turned to eye him rather apprehensively once again. It made the boy fidget.

She hadn't brought any papers with her today, he saw as she clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, and she didn't quite seem herself. Her heart-shaped face was pink and blotchy and around her dark, twinkling eyes her skin seemed far more puffy than usual.

"Have you been crying?" Theodore wondered aloud, and to his bemusement the witch gave a rather high pitched chuckle and exclaimed:

"Oh yes, Cherub! I've been crying buckets!"

"Why?"

"Never you mind, eh? It's not important. Now would you look at what I've got here, you'd never guess..." she turned to look back towards the door and shouted: "Well you can let him in you know, we don't bite in here!"

"It's against regulations and you know it!" Duncan's voice snapped from out in the corridor, and Tonks gave a rather amused huff as she got back to her feet.

"Actually," Theodore heard her mutter. "You'd be surprised what isn't against regulations now..." she shot a broad grin over her shoulder at the boy and assured him: "I'll be back in half a second, Cherub. I've brought somebody along to see you."

Theodore waited, utterly mystified by the notion of a visitor as what sounded like a full blown row erupted outside.

"I MEAN IT, TONKS, I'LL CALL FOR SECURITY!" the boy heard Duncan threaten a few minutes later, and as the door to the cell was flung open in a far more Tonks-like fashion and the witch reappeared, she waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder and announced:

"Call for Minister Shacklebolt if you fancy, Duncan, I honestly don't give a toss!"

There was a rather stunned pause, before Duncan's rather feeble voice called:

"Well...well alright then...I WILL! I WILL CALL FOR MINISTER SHACKLEBOLT!"

"Good for you, love!" Tonks told him, and Theodore quite forgot his nerves and let out a snigger...

His amusement halted abruptly when he spotted the man who stepped into the cell just behind Tonks, and he felt the nerves return with vengeance...

It was the man from the cafe who had caught Theodore attempting to steal his wallet.

Theodore simply stared.

What on earth was he doing here?

Apparently the man was as stunned to see Theodore as Theodore was to see him, for he very nearly took a step backwards, clutching the plastic bag that he held tightly in both hands.

Tonks reached to lay a hand upon the man's arm, utterly beaming.

"Theodore, this is Remus." the witch informed the boy rather grandly, as if this were supposed to be some sort of momentous occasion. "He's my husband."

Theodore stared at Remus for a long moment, before remembering his manners.

"Hello..." he mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm, and Remus offered him a reassuring smile.

"Hello Theodore."

"I hear you've already met." Tonks said, seemingly rather amused by this fact, and the boy squirmed in embarrassment.

"It's...it's a small world, isn't it?" he half-whispered, too shy to speak much louder, and the two adults exchanged a rather knowing glance and Remus agreed:

"It certainly is."


	15. Flesh and Blood

_Note: This was probably even more tricky than the previous chapter! I'm not sure I'm that happy with it...but...here goes anyway!_

_Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed the last chapter! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit form this piece of writing._

**15: Flesh and Blood**

As they stood side by side, eying the child before them thoughtfully as he rifled keenly through the bag of possessions that they had just presented him with, Remus Lupin pursed his lips firmly together before informing his wife:

"We don't have very long."

As Theodore extracted the two hand puppets from the bag, face lighting up at the sight of them, Dora sighed.

"We'll just come out with it then, shall we?" she muttered, offering her husband a brief raised eyebrow.

"Merlin, no..."

"Precisely...this is...well..."

"Difficult?"

"Exactly."

Remus glanced warily over his shoulder towards the door.

"Be that as it may," he reminded her under his breath. "If Duncan's sent for Kingsley we'll be out of here before we can get a word out."

"Yeah...yeah, you're right..." Dora agreed, chewing her lip rather apprehensively, before reaching to wipe her hands nervously upon the front of her robes, deciding: "Better get on with it then, hadn't we?" And with that she drew in a deep, calming breath, reached to grab hold of the werewolf by the hand, and tugged him forwards a few steps.

"Glad I spotted those, eh Cherub?" she said, giving Remus' hand a squeeze before letting go and dropping down to sit beside the boy.

Theodore looked up from his adoring inspection of the cloth toys to offer her a rather shy little smile.

"I'm too old for them," he informed the witch quietly. "That's what Aunt Eliza says."

"Yeah?" the Auror reached to pick up the puppets, settling them on her lap for closer examination. "Well what does Aunt Eliza know, eh? I think they're awesome."

"They're my parents." Theodore informed her solemnly, and as Remus eased himself down to sit beside her, Dora hastily withdrew her hand from it's probing of the female doll's dress. The witch stared down at her cloth substitute, entirely thrown. She wondered what to say and felt quite glad when Theodore went on: "Nana Plume made them for me. Mum's supposed to have long blonde hair, but Nana ran out of lemon coloured wool. She was using the wool from her leftovers box, you see. There was only pink left." Theodore turned to look up at the witch with grin as he observed: "She's got hair like you!"

Dora opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out and after a long pause she was forced to turn away to look at Remus instead. He reached to lay a comforting hand upon her knee and as she reached to lay her hand atop of it, she sucked in a deep breath and told Theodore:

"Listen, Cherub, I've got a few things I need to tell you...that Remus here and I need to tell you...and they're not very easy things, in fact I don't think I've ever told anybody anything so...so difficult in my whole life...and I spend half my life telling people difficult things, because that's...that's all part of my job."

"Are they bad things?" Theodore whispered, feeling quite tempted to reach to snatch a puppet back from her so that he could have something to cling to in apprehension, and to his bemusement he watched a tear begin to slide down her cheek and the witch gave a rather watery chuckle and murmured:

"Oh no, Sweetheart, they're not bad in the slightest! In fact...in fact there was never something more wonderful to tell in the whole wide world!"

"Then why are you crying?" Theodore wondered, and Remus reached to slide an arm about the Auror's shoulders.

"Because some things are just that wonderful, Theodore." the werewolf murmured. "And because sometimes even the most wonderful things in the world can be terribly sad. Now we...we don't have a great deal of time, but...but we're here to tell you about...about us. About exactly who we are."

"That's right." Dora agreed, feeling quite glad to be providing with a beginning. She reached to pick up the puppets, sliding one onto each hand and staring down at them rather thoughtfully. "But...but before we get to who Remus and I are...I suppose we ought start with explaining who a few other people are. Now...now many, many years ago, Theodore, long before you were born, or even before I was born, there lived the most evil and powerful Dark Wizard the Wizarding world had ever know, and he called himself Lord Voldemort. And as time went on Voldemort gathered together a following of witches and wizards who would do his bidding, and he named them his Death Eaters. It was a terrible, terrible time and everybody was terrified of him. But there were some wizarding families, the very old ones mostly, who thought...who thought perhaps Voldemort was a good thing."

"How could anybody think that?" Theodore asked, eyes wide in horror at such a notion, and Remus shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe it either.

"They wanted power, status, blood purity amongst the wizarding world...all sorts of reasons." he recalled, and Theodore reached to hug his legs tightly to his chest.

"That's dreadful!" he whispered, and Dora gave a soft snort to hear such a simple summary.

"Yes, it was." the witch agreed. "And there was one family, the Blacks, who were very keen on Voldemort and what he was doing. A lot of them joined the Death Eaters. And in the Black family there were three sisters; Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. Now, Bellatrix and Narcissa both made good, pure blood marriages, just as their parents wanted, both of their husbands were Death Eaters and Bellatrix grew to be one of the most notorious and terrible Death Eaters out of all of them."

"What about Andromeda?"

"Ah, Andromeda was different!" Remus recalled, smiling broadly. "She chose to marry against her parents' wishes a man named Ted, who was not in the family's view a pure blood. And Ted and Andromeda had a daughter, Nymphadora."

"You?" Theodore asked, eyes lighting up in realisation, and as Dora elbowed her husband sharply in the ribs she agreed:

"That's right, they had me. Now, Bellatrix and the rest of the family utterly loathed my parents and me, but there was another group of people that they hated even more. The Order of the Phoenix."

"Who were they?" Theodore asked, fidgeting quite excitedly at the prospect of rebellion against evil, and Remus told him:

"The Order of the Phoenix was an organisation led by Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard who Voldemort was afraid of. They fought against the Death Eaters in the First Wizarding War and then again in the second when Voldemort returned again."

"Remus joined the Order as soon as he left school." Dora said, and Theodore turned to eye the werewolf with admiration.

"I bet Voldemort hated you!"

"Voldemort and the Death Eaters already hated me, or people like me." Remus murmured, swallowing an apprehensive lump from his throat.

"That's right," Dora agreed. "They didn't think much of werewolves."

"Werewolves...?" Theodore repeated, eyes widening in shock, and the wizard shifted worriedly where he sat.

"That's...another story, really Cherub." Dora mumbled. "But...but really werewolves aren't...aren't quite what you think, honestly..."

There was a very long silence as Theodore turned this over in his mind, still staring at Remus, before he mumbled:

"No, I...I don't suppose they are. If you married one, I mean."

"Exactly! Exactly, Sweetheart!" Dora exclaimed, awash with relief, and Remus blinked, apparently dazed. "We can...we can talk about werewolves later. So...so Remus joined the Order straight out of school, right in the middle of the First Wizarding War. But then...then Voldemort lost his powers...that's another story too, but the point is for a while he was gone and...and his Death Eaters were locked up in the wizarding prison, Azkaban." She paused, waiting for Remus to pick up the story, but apparently he was still too dazed to say anything, so she went on again. "But it didn't last, Cherub. Voldemort came back, the Death Eaters broke free from Azkaban and Albus Dumbledore was forced to recall the Order of the Phoenix to fight against them. And by that time I had just qualified as an Auror here at the Ministry of Magic. I had a...a mentor, a teacher named Alastor Moody. He was in the Order and he asked me to join too...which I did. And that's how I met Remus." she paused again to offer her husband a bright smile, and the werewolf managed to smile vaguely back at her. "The war grew more terrible than any of us ever could of imagined. Voldemort's power grew and grew, and before long most of us in the Order had been forced into hiding. Everything was grim and dark, but then something wonderful and happy happened."

"What happened?" Theodore breathed, feeling a great swell of hope rising in his chest, and Dora beamed as she recalled:

"Remus and I got married. And then not long after that we found out that we were going to have a baby, too. We had a little boy, we named him Ted after my dad who had died earlier that year. And everybody was so happy, he was so wonderful, our Teddy. Everybody was so excited and pleased for us, it was like...like a little piece of hope, something light in such dark times. We all felt as if...as if we had something more to fight for. It was just the sort of reminder that everybody needed, wasn't it love?"

"It was," Remus agreed, smiling faintly. "It was the happiest few weeks of my life, just after Teddy was born."

"But not everybody was pleased, of course. When the news spread and the Death Eaters came to hear of it, Bellatrix was utterly livid! It was bad enough that my mother had been a traitor, let alone have me marrying a werewolf and having a child with him! And that was when Bellatrix swore to Voldemort that she'd kill us, the three of us, to restore the family's purity."

"Of course we knew they'd be after us, they were always after us." Remus said, sighing heavily. "We did what we could to keep ourselves and Teddy safe. We placed every protective spell, every barrier we could think of over the house, we kept a strict timetable when they needed to be recast and we checked them on the hour almost every hour. We stayed together, there's safety in numbers..."

"Except of course we had to leave sometimes. We had to go out to meetings of the Order, or what was left of it. To fetch supplies...to keep on fighting..."

"And that was when they broke us."

"They must have been watching our movements for days."

"It was...it was the night of the full moon. So...so of course I wasn't there."

"It was just me, my mum and Teddy. But there was news from the Order about Voldemort's plans and we needed to hear them, so I left Teddy alone with my mum...I promised to be back within the hour because she wasn't feeling well that night and it was my turn to reset the protective charms on the house..." Dora trailed off into silence, reaching to bury her face in her hands. "They...they tricked me..." she recalled after a long moment, voice so awfully bitter and ashamed that it made Theodore flinch. "I...I got distracted...caught up in...in things...everybody wanted to see...to see the baby and I...I got distracted...babbling on to them all about how wonderful he was, how perfect...and...and then I had to rush home to reset the charms but...but then...but then I...I got distracted. The Death Eaters had...had set a trap. I got distracted by it and...and then by the time I realised it was just a distraction it was...it was too late!"

"The defences were gone and the Death Eaters broke into the house. Andromeda had fallen asleep in the sitting room...they...they slipped upstairs and into the nursery...and snatched Teddy from his cradle...they snatched him and...and that was that. He was gone." Remus finished, head hung despairingly at the memory.

"I...I tried...I tried so, so hard!" Dora sniffed, swiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her robes. "Really, Cherub, I did! I...I ran back to the house, I sprinted back to the house and...and upstairs but...but it was too late...it was just too late..."

Theodore stared mournfully down into his lap, blinking back a few tears of his own.

"Goodness," the child whispered. "That's the most terribly awful and sad thing that I've ever heard."

The trio were solemnly silent for a long moment, save for Dora's occasional sniff, before Theodore frowned deeply and looked up at Remus to ask:

"What about Andromeda? Didn't the...didn't the Death Eaters kill her, too?"

"No..." Remus murmured as he reached into his pocket to extract a pale blue handkerchief which he pressed into his wife's hands. "No, they left her as she was."

"Why d'you suppose they did that? Or...or why...why didn't they wait for you two to come home so that they could get you too?"

The werewolf's expression grew bleak as Dora attempted to mop the tears from her face.

"Because, Theodore, that would have been far less cruel. If Dora and I were both dead, who would be left to suffer the guilt and sorrow of losing our only child? Better to let us suffer a while and then kill us later."

Theodore simply stared at him, unable to comprehend such hatred, such cruelty, and he felt quite overwhelmed when Dora muttered:

"They always knew exactly where to hit you where it hurts most."

"Of course we assumed that Teddy was dead." Remus said, and to Theodore's surprise this seemed to cheer Tonks up considerably.

"And that's...that's the thing, Cherub." the witch said, straightening up so that she turn to look at him, dark, watery eyes gazing at him intently. "That's what we've come to talk to you about. About...about our Teddy. Because...because he isn't dead. Somebody...somebody saved him from the Death Eaters. Somebody snatched him back."

Theodore's mouth fell open in surprise and he shifted excitedly where he sat as he gasped:

"Who? Who did? Who could have done that?"

"We don't know precisely..." Remus admitted, and Theodore waited impatiently for some sort of explanation as witch and wizard exchanged a long glance. The pause was just long enough for another, far more bemusing question to pop into the boy's head.

"What does...what does all of this have to do with me, anyway?" Theodore asked, and he felt rather self-conscious when both adults turned to stare at him.

Dora leant forward a little, voice dropped to a whisper.

"Because, Cherub," the witch breathed. "We might not know the exact name of who saved our son, but we do know what she looked like and what she did. She had long, blonde hair." she whispered, fingers toying with the pink strands of wool upon one puppet's head. "And she took our son, our Teddy, away from the Death Eaters. She ran away with him, and she gave him to the first people that she came across." She leant forward further until there were precious inches between them and Theodore found himself holding his breath. "A muggle couple, in their car." she breathed. "They say they very nearly ran her over..."

Theodore was just sucking in a deep, utterly stunned breath, feeling as if the final few syllables of her whispering had struck him in the chest with the full force of the car in question when there came the abrupt sound of the cell door being flung back on its hinges.

Theodore jumped.

Dora and Remus' heads instantly snapped to look towards the source of the noise, just in time to see Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt step into the room, his arms folded firmly across his chest.

There was a long pause as the Minister stared down at the trio perched upon the make-shift bed, before he fixed the witch sat in the middle with a piercing stare and inquired:

"_Well_?"

As Duncan peered almost nervously around the door at them, Dora gazed blankly back at her employer, frowning ever so slightly.

"Well what?" she asked, as Theodore shrunk back towards the wall behind him.

The Minister's face contorted in absolute fury and he swung an arm up to point at the door, very nearly hitting Duncan squarely in the face.

"_Get out_!" he demanded as Theodore turned to gaze at...at..._his parents...his parents, his true flesh and blood_ in an odd mix of shock and apprehension.

His..._mother _leant backwards a little where she sat and asked:

"Aren't I entitled to try and explain..."

"Tonks, that _was _your opportunity to try and explain!" Kingsley snapped furiously "If you weren't such a bloody smart arse you might have noticed it! Now get out of here, both of you!"

"Oh come on, Kingsley, you're being unreasonable..." Dora began to protest, but apparently this only angered the Minister further.

"UNREASONABLE?" he scoffed. "Me? Take a long look in the mirror when you get home, Tonks, why don't you? I've been absurdly lenient with you recently, you shouldn't be on this case in the first place! And now look at what you're doing! In fact...I'm not even sure I know what you're doing, what in Merlin's name IS THIS? Just how many more rules and regulations are you planning on smashing to smithereens before you think I'll sack you?"

"You won't sack me." Dora retorted. "You don't have the right..."

"Pardon?"

"I said..."

"Dora _be quiet_!" Remus interrupted sharply, and at his interjection Kingsley looked quite relieved.

"Thank you, Remus." he sighed, folding his arms again and scowling at the witch. "Now come along, you'll leave without a fuss, won't you? I'm sure you're aware just as much as she is that this is a massive breach of regulations. Just...just go now and we'll pretend you weren't ever here, that way you won't end up with a huge fine and I don't have the hassle of the paperwork banning you from Ministry premises."

Theodore waited for his...f_ather, yes his father_, to get obediently to his feet and make for the door, only for his response to make everybody in the room turn to stare at him.

"No." Remus said, and the look of surprise on the Minister's face seemed to very nearly make Dora snigger.

"No...?" Kingsley repeated, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, and Remus smiled up at him pleasantly and confirmed:

"No, I won't leave quietly."

There was a stunned paused before the Minister told him:

"You two really have been married for far too long! I suggest you get divorced immediately, Remus, before her other bad habits start to rub off on you."

Remus smiled faintly.

"I wonder," the werewolf said as the Minister stared down at him expectantly, as if his refusal to leave had all been a joke. "When has the defence of one's civil liberties become a bad habit, Kingsley? I always thought you were as keen on that as the rest of us are."

Theodore thought this would only aggravate the Minister further, but seemingly he did not find Remus anything like as annoying as he found Dora.

"What civil liberties are you defending, I wonder?" he asked, sounding mildly interested by this reasoning, and Remus told him:

"Well I may have spent the majority of my life with very few rights to speak of, but I'm pretty certain that, whilst he is detained here, those I do have stretch to me having the right to _visit my son_ during the prescribed visiting hours."

As Kingsley turn to stare at him, Theodore felt rather as if he had been struck in the chest again, and quite forgetting that there was an argument going on, he turned to face the witch beside him and reached rather uncertainly to tug at her sleeve.

"Are you...are you _really_ my...my mother?"

He felt a little awkward just then, because he thought Tonks might burst into tears as she turned to gaze down at him, but she drew in a deep, slightly shuddered breath and told him:

"Yes...that's right, Sweetheart, I am. I'm your mum, Remus is your dad and...and your our Teddy, your our son." She gazed at him rather as if she couldn't quite believe herself for a moment, before turning to look back at Kingsley, expression defiant as she announced: "And we've proof, too. Theodore here never drank Polyjuice that day at the museum, he didn't have to, because he's a metamorphmagus! And there's no Theodore Beddington on the Metamorphmagus Register from the year of his birth. There was only one metamorphmagus born that year, he was named Theodore Remus Lupin and he inherited his abilities from _me_."

As Theodore attempted to battle through the overwhelming torrent of feelings and emotions that this explanation had caused to erupt in his head, Kingsley slowly shook his head.

"Tonks..." he began rather weakly, "Teddy was...he was taken by...by Death Eaters."

"Yes, he was."

"Precisely. Think...think about that, for a moment..."

"Are you trying to tell me that the Ministry records are incorrect?"

"No...but...but there must be some sort of explanation...a different explanation! Really, Tonks...Remus...Death Eaters took him!"

"Death Eaters took him, Kingsley, but somebody...somebody took him back!"

Kingsley frowned deeply.

"That's...highly improbable." he muttered, only for Remus to remind him:

"So was an infant boy overcoming the most powerful dark wizard of the age. But it happened."

Again, Kingsley simply stared.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Dora asked, positively grinning. "Go and tell his godfather!"

And to Theodore's amazement, the Minister of Magic whispered:  
"Sweet Merlin...!" And with that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, demanding: "Quickly, Duncan! Find Mr. Potter, he's never going to believe this!"

Dora watched him leave, utterly beaming, only to jump a little to feel a small pair of arms being flung around her, and Theodore buried his face in her side.

It was simply the most glorious and wonderful feeling that Theodore had ever experienced in his whole entire life, hugging his mother. His real mother, a mother who, despite being a stranger to him, seemingly loved him very much. It was dizzyingly joyful to know, sat just beside his mother, was his father. His real father, a father who, despite their years apart, apparently loved him too.

He had parents. He had flesh and blood to love him unconditionally, to adore him, care for him, protect him. And Theodore Lupin didn't care if they were strangers to him. Strangers who loved him were better by far than his familiar aunt and uncle who he was convinced couldn't care less. And as he clutched hold of fistfuls of his mother's jacket, he was certain that he had never felt happier in his whole entire life.

Dora turned to gaze down at the blonde haired boy, revelling at his tight hold upon her until she felt movement beside her and Remus' voice in her ear whispered:

"I rather think, as his mother, you're supposed to hug him back."


	16. Spinning Heads

_Note: Well it has been an inexcusably long time since I updated this story! I must confess that I hadn't realised just how long it had been! I was aware, however, that this has, judging from the number of reviews, a greater readership than the Meet the... stories, and since I was so busy and hadn't heard any complaints, I decided not to get anybody's hopes up by updating whilst I knew I didn't have much time to write! _

_Needless to say, I now have at least a little spare time for writing! _

_This is a rather short chapter, I'm afraid, I'm probably not quite back into the swing of things here. Sorry about that! I hope you all enjoy it anyway! Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter (however many decades ago that was now!), I'm still stunned by how many of you are reading! (If you still are, of course!) :-)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**16: Spinning Heads**

He had absolutely no idea how long he had been sleeping, or indeed precisely when it was that he had fallen asleep, but when Theodore Lupin opened his eyes things were not the same as they had been before.

For one thing, his parents were gone.

For another, a stranger dressed in long scarlet robes like the ones his mother wore was stood by the cell door, leaning against the wall, staring at him intently.

Theodore stared right back at him.

A broad smile was just beginning to break out upon the stranger's face as he reached to push a pair of glasses further up the bridge of his nose when the cell door was flung somewhat dramatically open and a woman dressed in a flowery pink dress and a pair of lurid high heels appeared, frizzy blonde hair bobbing up and down as she nodded her head vigorously, calling:

"Yes, yes, yes, I know! I know all of that, Duncan, just you leave it with me..." Spotting the man leant up against the wall, the woman's eyebrows knitted impatiently together and she exclaimed: "Out you go, then! You know the rules, I don't have all day you know..."

"I just wanted to say hello to him, Geraldine..."

"Yes, yes! You've been in here since Tonks left! She's been gone at least two hours, that's ample time to say hello..."

"He's been sleeping. Give us a moment, won't you?"

"Absolutely not! I've got paperwork to go over with him!"

"Come on Geraldine, be fair..."

"You can come and see him later!"

"He's my godson...he's supposed to be dead! Come on, ten minutes!"

"No!"

"Five?"

"Are you his father?"

"Obviously not, but...for Merlin's sake..."

"Well then! Out!"

The man..._Theodore's godfather_...cast one last curious look over at the boy and, to the woman's clear annoyance, insisted on informing the child:

"My name's Harry, Theodore. Harry Potter. I'm...I'm your godfather."

There was a sizeable pause before Theodore managed to mumble:

"Hello..."

Harry instantly grinned, which only seemed to irritate the woman further.

"Your mum tells me you like hot chocolate." he said, reaching to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his robes. "I could fetch you one later, if you like."

Theodore managed a rather numb nod. He felt somewhat relieved when Harry nodded back at him before turning to disappear outside.

Theodore didn't want any more visitors, any more strangers introducing themselves, any more connections, expectant stares...

It was becoming a bit too much...

He felt rather tempted to sigh heavily when the woman came to stand before him to announce:

"My name is Geraldine Flemming, Theodore. I'm going to be the new Head of your Investigation."

"What?" Theodore breathed, scrambling up into a sitting position. "Why? Where's...where's Tonks? Where's my mother? She...she's in charge..."

"I'm afraid that's against Ministry Regulations." Geraldine Flemming told him, not sounding very sorry at all. "As your mother she's deemed to have a counterproductive biased. And that's why she's signed control of everything over to me. Now then..."

"Where is she now?" Theodore asked, ignoring the way her eyebrows once again knitted tightly together.

"Still filling out forms, I expect. So..."

"And my father?"

"I imagine he's doing precisely the same. Now then, young man, let's get down to business, shall we?"

"When will they be coming back?"

"I expect you'll see them tomorrow..."

"But can't they come this evening?"

"No, the designated hours of visitation are long over. Now if we could just have a little talk about..."

"But Tonks always comes in the evening...she...she came in the evening before! Before she went home for dinner..."

"Yes, as Head of the Investigation she could come and go as she pleased. That's no longer the case..."

"But I want to see her! I want to see both of them..."

"That's quite enough!" the witch snapped, making Theodore jump. "You'll see your parents when the Ministry says you can and not a moment before! In case you hadn't noticed you are being detained under suspicion of committing a very serious crime! I hardly think you have the right to demand anything!" She paused to draw in a deep, calming breath before plastering what Theodore suspected she meant to be a kind smile onto her carefully powdered face. "Don't you worry," she told him, attempting to be sweet. "I don't suppose your parents will be done with all that paperwork for a long while yet! They wouldn't have the time to pop down here even if they wanted to...which I'm sure they do...now, we're going to have a re-read of these forms, just so I know things have been done correctly and everything is up to date..."

As he consented to staring blankly at the familiar looking papers, Theodore felt as if his stomach were twisting into knots.

He'd been quite certain that Tonks had said that Geraldine Flemming was _dead nice_. He couldn't help but think that she might have been lying...

"They've given him Geraldine Flemming."

"They what?"

"It's true, Tonks. She just waltzed in and kicked me out...he was just waking up, too!"

"But they can't give him Geraldine bloody Flemming! She's a BITCH!"

"I know. I think her middle name might be Dolores..."

"If I'd known I'd have never signed the papers over!"

"It wouldn't have made a difference, they'd have torn the paperwork up and told her to start over. There's not a lot we can do..."

"Well we're going to have to do something!"

As he watched his fellow Auror slump back against the wall with a sigh, Harry glanced searchingly down the corridor, waiting for inspiration to strike, before he suggested:

"You should take him home with you."

Dora's gaze snapped up from a frowning inspection of her boots to ask:

"I should what?"

"Take Teddy home with you." Harry said again, eyes widening quite excitedly at the prospect. "He's your son, isn't he? He's only stuck in that cell because up until now he's not had a suitable guardian to take responsibility for him. It's not normal to stick kids in cells for more than a night, anyway, and if Geraldine wants to talk to him she'd have to go through you and Remus first." When Dora merely stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly as if she could barely comprehend such a move, Harry nodded towards the door of the office opposite, where Remus was still battling through mounds of forms and paperwork in an attempt to have Teddy named living instead of dead.

"Let you tell him, shall I?" he grinned, only for the expression to falter a little when Dora mumbled:

"I...don't know, Harry..."

"What d'you mean you don't know? He's your son! What're you going to do, wave goodbye when this is all over and pack him off back to those ridiculous muggles..."

"Obviously not..."

"Well then!"

"Obviously he's coming home with us...eventually."

"Eventually?"

"Yes..."

"He's should be going home with you now!"

"It's not...that simple."

"Why not? Sod the paperwork, we'll rush it through, you don't need to worry about it, it's not a problem..."

"It's not the paperwork, Harry."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just...well..." Dora trailed off, reaching to a hand across her eyes, face contorting wearily as she mumbled: "My head...it's spinning!" Her fingers came to clutch at strands of hair as she gave a rather strained chuckle, recalling: "Yesterday...this morning, even! This morning it was...it was just me and Remus. It was just the two of us and everything was normal...normal enough I mean...and we had this normal routine like...like people have. We had this life...this life we've had for years now and it's just the way it should be, it works for us and we know where we are and what we're doing and...and then...wham! Out of nowhere our son never died and he's...he's here and we've met him and...and he's going to come and live with us and live happily ever after and we love him and adore him and it's all wonderful...!" She turned slowly to face Harry, eyes wide and face flushed pink as if she might just burst, and almost as soon as she had gasped in a deep enough breath, she did exactly that. "I don't even know him!" she shrieked, causing a passing witch clutching a stack of files to jump in alarm. "I love him more than anything but I don't know a thing about him! I don't know what...what he likes to eat or...or what his favourite colour is! I don't know what games he likes to play or...or what makes him laugh! I don't know what his favourite bedtime story is, or if he's afraid of the dark or...or how much sugar he likes on his cornflakes in the morning! I don't know any of those...those things his mum is meant to know!"

When the torrent of words finally stopped gushing from her mouth, Dora gasped for breath again, eyes by now as wide as snitches.

Harry simply gaped at her.

There was a very long and rather painful silence as the two Aurors stared at one another, alarmed. Harry tried desperately to think of precisely what to say, but every time something sprang to mind it died in the back of his throat...

"You know he likes hot chocolate." a quiet voice offered from the office doorway.

Harry glanced sideways to find Remus stood, the mere ghost of a smile upon his lips as he offered the two Aurors a raised eyebrow.

Dora immediately stumbled across the corridor to throw her arms around his neck, her face buried in the front of his shirt. As the werewolf merely reached to pat her somewhat gingerly upon the back, Harry told them:

"This is all perfectly normal, you know."

"Who made you a bloody psychiatrist?" Dora snapped, and Remus winced.

"What I mean is," Harry tried again, doing his best not to take her sudden temper at all personally, "I'm sure you're bound to feel...well..."

"Unprepared." Remus supplied, sounding downright despairing, and Harry nodded and agreed:

"Exactly! Unprepared! That's bound to happen, isn't it?"

"What's your point?" Dora asked, sounding worryingly as though she were crying, and Harry found that for a moment he wasn't quite sure what his point was at all.

"The point is we spend half our lives not being prepared for things!" he decided after a long pause. "And alright, this is...this is pretty major compared to...to...well..."

"Anything that's ever happened to either of us ever before." Remus offered, unnervingly more agitated by the notion with each syllable he spoke, and Harry had to swallow a lump in his throat as he agreed:

"Exactly...well...almost! I mean you weren't prepared to lose Teddy in the first place, were you? But you've...you've coped! And you can cope again now he's back!"

When Dora did little besides cry harder and Remus' gaze drifted towards the floor, Harry felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach.

"Don't lose your nerves, for Merlin's sake!" he cried, desperate on their behalf. "Don't be afraid that you'll be crap parents, because you won't be! You never have been! You were good parents, you tried to protect him! You tried your best! For the love of Merlin don't not try now! Teddy needs you just as much as last time! He needs his parents to protect him! It doesn't matter if you're not ready or if he's not even ready! Take him home with you, for Merlin's sake! Don't leave him here with bloody Umbridge Junior to keep him company! Be brave! Like you always have been!"

Harry felt rather as if he were blushing at having shouted at them as he had. But he simply hadn't been able to help it. He could see walls of doubt beginning to stack up and they needed smashing, they needed obliterating on the spot. He wouldn't stand to see them doubt themselves, it simply couldn't happen. They'd spent far too long feeling that way.

He'd sometimes hoped just after the War, in a way, that Remus and Dora might have had another child. Not to replace Teddy, no child could have done that, but just to prove to them that they could do it. They could be parents. Bloody decent ones.

When it had become apparent that this wasn't going to happen, Harry had resorted to roping them into babysitting on a regular basis instead. Apparently his efforts to boost their low esteem had not made a great deal of impact on them.

But maybe that didn't really matter, he realised a moment later when Dora finally consented to drawing her tear-stained face away from Remus' chest with a sniff. Maybe he'd ranted at them successfully enough to install a shred of confidence because the witch reached to swipe a sleeve across her eyes and, after exchanging a glance with her husband, murmured:

"Where do we sign?"


	17. Coming Home

_Note: Let Wave One of the updates begin..._

_This turned out way longer than I thought, so I ended it early. There might be more than 6 more chapters of this left now. But it is all planned!_

_Thank you to everybody for being patient and understanding whilst I was gone on hiatus. For more information about my updating plans, take a peek at my profile._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**17: Coming Home**

It was, Theodore supposed, growing late in the evening when his life took another dramatic leap into the unknown. The awful woman who had stood rattling off all sorts of long words that he hadn't understood had left several hours previously, possibly because unlike Tonks she seemed adverse to sitting down on the floor beside him and those high heels had looked rather as though they would make her feet ache. Since then Theodore was sure that he had heard the sound of Duncan out sat by the desk, snoring softly...

And suddenly there came the sound of creeping footsteps and Theodore heard a familiar voice inquire loudly:

"Paying you to sleep, are they?"

There came a scuffling as Duncan no doubt woke with a start.

"Oh! I...I..."

"Relax, Sleeping Beauty, it's only me."

"Merlin, Tonks! You scared the bloody life out of me!"

Theodore scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door, rising up upon tiptoes to squint through the bars to spot the Deputy Head of Aurors stood before Duncan's desk.

"You'd think as a deputy I ought do, wouldn't you? But speaking as the one who fell asleep in the middle of the Minister's speech at the Defence Conference last summer..." Dropping a stackful of papers down in front of the wizard,Tonks leant across the desk towards him until there were precious few inches between them as she whispered: "I won't tell if you don't!"

"They work us too hard," Duncan grumbled, stifling a yawn into his sleeve as she straightened up. "The shifts are far too long..."

"Well then," Tonks grinned. "Let's give them the finger, shall we? I'm skipping my annual review with the Wizengamot tomorrow morning in favour of a shopping spree! What are you going to do?"

"You're what?" Duncan sat straighter in his chair, eyes growing wide. "You can't do that, they'll go mental..."

"Yeah well," Tonks shrugged as she strode over towards the cell door, flinging her arms up into the air as she exclaimed dramatically: "_Viva la revolucion_!"

"You're taking the piss." Duncan told her, only for her to correct him:

"I'm not taking the piss, I'm taking my _son home_."

"Bloody hell, Tonks..."

"I know..." the witch paused by the door, and Theodore backed away in case she might spot him staring at her. As he felt a odd mixture of excitement and apprehension bubbling up inside of him, the boy heard Tonks sigh heavily.

"Nervous?" Duncan asked, and the Auror gave a rather stiff chuckle as she reached to unlock the cell door.

"Alright, Cherub?" she greeted softly as she stepped into the dim little room, smiling brightly. "How'd you fancy ditching this room for somewhere a little brighter?"

And so it was that Theodore found himself led out of his cell, past Duncan's desk, up the corridor and into a lift. His second experience of being escorted by Tonks through the Ministry of Magic was by far less agitating than the first. For one thing he was not in tears and for another she was not forced to drag him by the elbow. The Ministry in late evening was a somewhat eerie place, the vast Atrium with it's dark marble walls was void of life and as he followed his mother towards one of the enormous fireplaces Theodore could hear their footsteps echoing off the walls. For the most part, they walked in silence, apparently both at quite a loss as to what one ought say on an occasion such as this, but when they came to a halt before the fireplace Tonks finally turned to look down at the boy thoughtfully.

"Goodness," the witch murmured, offering him a raised eyebrow. "This is quite something, isn't it?"

Theodore simply stared at her. He wasn't quite sure that quite something really covered it.

"Don't you worry, love." she told him, reaching to adjust the small bag of his belongings that she had slung over one shoulder. "I'm sure...I'm sure your dad and I are just as nervous as you are. We're all in this together, alright? We'll figure everything out...be a proper little family, how'd you like that?"

Despite his apprehension, Theodore grinned, and the witch grinned straight back at him.

"Come on then!" she declared, holding out a hand to him, "Your dad's been turning the spare bedroom upside down all evening fixing it up for you, you should've seen him, nearly lost a finger to a rogue bookshelf falling off the wall..."

With a snigger, Theodore consented to taking her hand and allowed her to tow him forwards into the fireplace.

"You might want to close your eyes." she told him as she reached to scoop up a handful of dusty coloured powder from a large pot set in a holder on the wall, and no sooner had the child closed his eyes he felt a sudden whoosh of air around him that very nearly made him stumble, had Tonks not had such a firm hold of his hand, and quite suddenly he felt himself being pulled forwards a few steps and the witch's voice announced:

"There, home sweet home!"

Theodore opened his eyes.

They were stood in a small, dimly lit sitting room which was dominated by a large, squashy sofa and a vibrant multi-coloured rug that covered most of the dark wooden floor. Compared to the vast, high ceilinged sitting room back at the Beddington residence, with it's tall windows, clinical white washed walls and countless pieces of artwork dotted around the walls and sideboards, this room gave far more the impression that somebody actually lived in it. The few bookcases and the little sideboard that had been squeezed into place were absolutely stuffed full of objects, books mostly, and though his parents seemingly were not terribly fussed about artwork in general, Theodore found the cream walls dotted with frames presenting an array of photographs...

They were moving.

As he took a rather hesitant step forward, Theodore attempted to take this show of magic in his stride, after all he had seen a fair number of astonishing things since Tonks had quite literally appeared in his life some days previously. And yet the boy could not seem to help but stare...

"Yeah..." he heard his mother murmur as she stepped to deposit his bagful of belongings upon the sofa. "The photographs are moving. They do that a lot."

Turning to the side, eyes roaming over the various images, Theodore caught sight of one upon the sideboard beside the sofa; the boy's eyes widened excitedly as he pointed at the trio of figures: his parents stood side by side, perhaps at a dinner party of some sort for his father was wearing a smart suit and his mother a long pale blue evening dress. In the witch's arms a small, dark haired baby was busy tugging at the shiny silver pendant that hung around Tonks' neck, straining to pull it closer to his mouth. As Theodore watched, Tonks carefully pulled the jewellery from his grasp. The baby promptly set about reaching for an earring instead.

"Is that me?" Theodore asked, and his mother turned to regard the photograph with a smile.

"No, he's too old to be you." she told him. "That's our godson, Albus. His dad Harry is your godfather."

Theodore fleetingly recalled the man Geraldine Flemming had thrown out of his cell back at the Ministry, before frowning at the thought that baby Albus didn't look very old at all...

_I must have been terribly young_, the boy mused, _when I was taken_...

"I don't suppose you have many photographs of me." he concluded, feeling quite disheartened at the notion, only for his mother to let out a chuckle.

"Oh I don't know about that," she laughed, turning to snatch up a frame from above the fireplace. "You might only have been with us a matter of weeks, but in that time I reckon you were the most photographed child in all of Wizarding Britain! My mum had this camera...ancient old thing, my dad bought it when he was at school or something. I couldn't pick you up or...or give you a bath without somebody snapping a picture of it! We all needed the distraction, you see. Your dad and I were making a photo album. Something constructive and cheerful to do that didn't involve getting ourselves injured or...or murdered or whatever..." she trailed off, frowning deeply down at the photograph before thrusting it under the boy's nose, cheerfully announcing: "There you are! Fresh out of your first ever bath!"

Theodore reached to take the picture in his hands, staring down at the newborn baby that lay upon a linen bedspread, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, one corner of which it grasped tightly in a little fist. A sparing spread of damp hair clung to it's head, a vibrant shade of...

"Pink...?"

"Mummy's boy, obviously. It'll probably go bright green in a second."

"Can I see some others?" Theodore asked excitedly, turning round to look searching at the other photographs on the walls, but his mother admitted:

"There aren't any more in here, that's the only one. In fact that's not usually there, either...we got it out because it was your birthday...we do that, you see, every year. We keep all of your pictures in a book upstairs, so they don't get ruined. There's one of the three of us up in our bedroom, but apart from that they're all in the book."

Observing an array of pictures, many of which contained several other children that Theodore supposed were relations of some kind, the boy felt quite deflated, disappointed...

"Oh..." he mumbled, grip upon the frame in his hands slackening a little, and as she reached to carefully take the photo from him, gazing down at it rather sadly, his mother assured him:

"Our photographs of you are precious to your dad and I, Sweetheart. Unspeakably precious...and unspeakably painful, too." She reached to run a finger across the frame's glass, scuffing the baby's cheek. "Don't think we stuffed them away in a cupboard somewhere to gather dust so we could forget you, because it's not like that, not at all. We could never forget you, Ted...not for a second..." For a moment, Theodore saw, the witch's face grew so dreadfully solemn that he thought she might very well burst into tears, but instead she reached to replace the picture upon the mantlepiece, before turning back to offer him a smile.

"But you're here now! You wait, we'll be wallpapering the hallway in photographs before you know it."

"Maybe we could write to Clarie, to fill in some gaps." Theodore thought, because despite being quite overwhelmed by his own sense of loss, he felt rather as if his parents had suffered more than he had by far; they had known precisely what had been taken from them. The boy felt a desire to lessen the pain. When his mother looked at him questioningly, he explained: "Clarissa...Nana's daughter. She's probably got a picture or two of me. Nana was useless with cameras, you see, but Clarissa used to come over with one sometimes..."

"Really?" Tonks' face positively lit up at this idea. "Well that would be wonderful! You wait until I tell your dad, he'll be dead thrilled! Speaking of which, he ought be around here somewhere...REMUS?"

"Kitchen, Dora." came the response, and the witch offered her son a grin.

"C'mon then," she said, turning to lead the way out of the sitting room, and as he shuffled through the doorway and into the little hallway, which appeared to be stacked high with cardboard boxes full of yet more books and goodness knew what else, Theodore wondered:

"What do you suppose he thinks...my dad, I mean...of having a thief as a son?"

At the apprehension in his voice, his mother merely sniggered.

"I'd suppose he's rather relieved about it."

"Relieved?"

"Yep! We'd never have found you again, would we, if you hadn't been a thief."

"Ha..."

Tonks paused, hand resting upon the door handle to the kitchen as she turned to offer the boy a reassuring smile.

"You'd be surprised what your dad thinks about a lot of things, Cherub." she told him. "I doubt the phrase _Last of the Marauders_ means a whole lot to you right now, but it probably will do soon enough. Don't you worry yourself about what happened before. Nobody's judging you, especially not us."

"Except the Wizengamot." Theodore reminded her, and her eyes grew quite wide for a split second before she laughed loudly and admitted:

"Well yeah, that's true..."

Theodore wasn't really sure why being under the scrutiny of the Wizarding government was at all amusing, but he felt rather too shy to point this out. Instead he consented to shuffling across the little hallway, past a staircase as she reached to fling open the kitchen door, calling:

"Alright, Remus love? You'd never guess who I've got here..."

The kitchen, Theodore found as he came to a halt in the doorway, was a very ordinary mixture of white tiled walls and pale wooden sideboards. There didn't appear to be a single bubbling cauldron in sight...

Indeed, there was a very average looking oven and stove, and it was before this that he found his father standing, carefully stirring something in a saucepan with a wooden spoon.

"What's that?" the wizard's wife inquired as she wandered into the room, and he paused in his stirring to turn to tell her:

"Hot chocolate."

"In a saucepan?"

"That's how you do it."

"No, that's how _you_ do it, Remus."

"I do it properly."

"Hot chocolate snob!"

"What's wrong with making an effort? Do we have any marshmallows in the cupboard?"

As she turned to reach to pull open a cupboard, Tonks glanced round at the boy in the doorway, offering him a raised eyebrow.

"You don't have to stand on parade here, you know." she told him encouragingly. "Why don't you come and sit at the table? I'll pop up and finish making your bed up whilst Dad finishes here."

As she extracted an open bag of enormous fluffy marshmallows from the cupboard and set them down beside the stove, Theodore consented to taking a few more steps into the room. She promptly disappeared back out into the hallways and as her footsteps upon the stairs faded away Theodore eyed his father rather apprehensively.

He supposed, at first glance, that his father ought be the more approachable one. Remus was quietly spoken and reassuringly unassuming. And yet Theodore found himself feeling terribly nervous.

It didn't take all that long for one to get the measure of Tonks. She had only remained baffling for the first ten minutes or so when Theodore had first met her. There was something very obvious about her, something very open. In comparison Remus seemed a bit of an enigma, things seemed more guarded when it came to him. Theodore wasn't quite sure what to make of him...

And then of course there was the issue of him being a werewolf. Not that Theodore felt it to be a problem per say, he just found it...tricky...confusing...

He probably didn't know a whole lot about werewolves, the boy realised, but the things that he did know didn't seem to match up with the man stood before the stove, carefully pouring steaming hot chocolate into a trio of mugs. After all, werewolves were supposed to be...well..._monsters_...

Not that Theodore wanted to ask about any of that. He was pretty sure it would be rude or offensive or at least upsetting in one way or another. He'd gotten that impression the first time the word werewolf had ever been mentioned; he'd seen his father's face grow anxious, heard how fiercely relieved his mother had sounded when he had accepted the news without a fuss.

He certainly didn't want to cause a fuss now.

"Here," Remus said, turning to hold out a steaming mug for the boy to take, and as he reached to wrap his hands around it, Theodore offered him a grateful smile.

"You'll have to tell us what else you like to drink." Remus said as he retrieved the other two mugs and led the way over to the little round table at the end of the room, "It doesn't do to live on hot chocolate...believe me, I've tried..."

As he dropped down to perch upon the chair beside the werewolf, Theodore sniggered.

"What happened?" he wondered, flinching a little at how mumbled the words were, and as he reached into his pocket to draw out his magic wand, giving it a flick and causing the packet of marshmallows to soar across the room, much to Theodore's awe, Remus recalled:

"I was sick all over my mother's freshly pruned roses. She wasn't very impressed!"

As the two of them chuckled, Theodore felt himself relax a little, and, determined not to broach the first subject that came to mind, he wondered:

"What's a Maruader?"

Remus took a sip of hot chocolate, expression distinctly amused.

"That's a very particular question."

"Yes...Tonks says you're the last one." Theodore flinched a little at his slip of the tongue, for Mum didn't quite come naturally yet, but his father didn't seem to notice, or if he did he didn't mind.

"It's a nickname of sorts," the werewolf explained, reaching to extract a couple of fluffy marshmallows to deposit in his mug. "A rather telling one, I'd say. That's what my friends and I called ourselves whilst we were at school; the Marauders."

"Were you naughty?" Theodore wondered, the name conjuring up thoughts of pirates and other sorts of villains, and his father leant back in his chair, expression bordering on a smirk.

"I'd say we had our moments..." he murmured rather tellingly, and Theodore felt rather as if he were being let into some sort of terribly close guarded secret. He couldn't help but feel that perhaps the Marauders had been a dreadfully troublesome bunch, to the extent that no decent adult, let alone parent, would openly admit to having a whole lot to do with them. There were probably a whole bunch of stories just waiting to be told, Theodore thought, and he'd probably rather enjoy them.

"And you're the last one?"

"That's right. The others died in the wars, one way or another."

"I'm sorry." Theodore mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, but his father merely took another sip of his hot chocolate and admitted:

"They wouldn't have had it any other way, I'm sure."

"You must be proud of them." Theodore said, just as footsteps sounded upon the stairs again, and as Tonks appeared in the doorway the werewolf murmured:

"Not all of them..."

"Not eating all the marshmallows, are you?" Tonks called as she strode across kitchen and round the table to drop into a seat at her husband's side.

"We wouldn't dare!" Remus muttered, offering Theodore a wink that was promptly lost behind the rim of his mug, and Theodore was forced to smother a snigger into his own cup.

"I saw that." his mother informed his father as she reached to snatch up the packet of sweets.

"Saw what, darling?"

"_That_."

Remus set his mug down upon the table, turning to glance over his shoulder searchingly.

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about." he insisted a moment later when he had completed his baffled examination of the kitchen and turned back to face her, and when she opened her mouth to protest his hand shot across the table to snatch the packet back. Holding it out to the child sat beside him, the werewolf asked: "Would you like a couple, Teddy? Before your mother scoffs the lot."

"I could hex you, sometimes." the witch informed him, slumping back in he chair in mock-annoyance, and Remus suggested:

"Let's not make it this time, though. Ted's barely been here half an hour and I'm pretty sure starting a duel in the middle of the kitchen without sending him to bed first constitutes poor parenting..."

"Aha! You're a comic genius, love!"

"I have been known to try."

Theodore rather felt like he wanted to laugh...maybe...he wasn't quite sure because the spouting of wizard-talk was quite alien to him, and yet it really was funny, so completely different to the talk he was used to adults having around the table back at home...

Back at the Beddingtons' house. Because this was home now...

Rather than the nerves that this realisation had brought before, Theodore instead felt quite excited. He reached to grab a generous handful of marshmallows from the bag, offered his father a broad smile and a thank you, and set about dunking them into his hot chocolate.

"I left a note on Harry's desk earlier." Tonks announced as she finally got hold of the marshmallows and set about selecting a couple to drop into her mug. "I've said I'm not going in to work tomorrow. He's probably guessed as much already, but I don't expect the others will be pleased, what with it being review day tomorrow."

"He'll probably skive off himself if he can manage it." Remus murmured. "He'll want to pop round here...everybody will..."

"He's probably flooed half of Wizarding Britain to tell them about what's going on." Tonks agreed, frowning deeply at the notion. "Merlin...you don't think he'd have told Mum, do you? I haven't even told Mum...oh Merlin, should I have? Will she be upset if I don't tell her tonight, or...or..."

"Leave it for tonight." Remus told her, reaching across the table to rest a calming hand upon her arm. "It's late. Besides, let's take things slowly. We don't want everybody showing up first thing tomorrow morning, do we?"

"Merlin, no! We're not a circus act for Merlin's sake, are we?" At the slightly startled expression upon Theodore's face the witch offered him a wink and suggested: "We'll keep you all to ourselves for now, shall we?"

Theodore nodded vigorously, nerves assaulting his stomach at the thought of hordes of unknown relatives crowding into the little house to get a good look at him, and his mother grinned and told him:

"Sounds like a plan, then."

"Will you be at home tomorrow too?" Theodore asked Remus, and the werewolf glanced sideways at his wife before clearing his throat and telling the boy:

"I certainly will."

"Dad's home most days." Tonks said, running a thoughtful finger around the rim of her mug, and after a long pause she looked up back up at her husband and added: "We should probably have a chat about that now actually, don't you think?"

Theodore wasn't really sure why his father being at home needed to be discussed, but apparently it was a deeply serious vein of conversation because Remus sat straighter in his chair and agreed:

"Yes...we probably should..."

There was a very long silence. Theodore shifted rather uncertainly in his chair and promptly stopped because it made his father flinch.

"This probably isn't the best of bedtime stories, Teddy," the wizard admitted, frowning deeply "but it's probably rather necessary. We're going to have a...a little talk about werewolves."

"Oh..." Theodore said, chewing on his lip rather apprehensively and trying very hard not to fidget again.

"There's nothing to be worried about, Cherub." his mother assured him, free hand coming to rest atop his father's, thumb scuffing soothingly against the skin. "You've nothing to be frightened of or anything of the sort. It's just...well...some things just need talking about, that's all."

"I've been a werewolf since I was six years old." his father explained, "I was attacked in the woods behind my parents' house one evening and bitten. It's...not terribly easy to lead a normal life...it's getting easier, but it's never easy. And your mother and I feel that...that you ought be...ought be aware of...of those difficult things..."

"Of course there's the obvious things." Tonks picked up when he had trailed off rather worriedly, her grip upon his hand tightening. "The transformations once a month. I expect you know what those are...most people do. But you don't need to worry about any of that, Sweetheart. There's a magic potion that helps keep things under control, Dad locks himself away with enough protective magic to hold a dragon and there's never been any problems, not in over a decade that I've known him. You ought not even think about it, love, it's not important, it's not...not him. And then there are...other things."

"Transformations make me sickly." Remus admitted, sounding quite ashamed. "I...sleep a lot...rest all the time..."

"But he always gets better."

"And...and that's why I...why I stay at home. Why I don't work. It's one of the reasons, anyway."

"Werewolves are unreliable, they take too much sick leave."

"And people don't trust them."

"Why not?" Theodore asked, his stomach twisting into knots at the notion, and Remus admitted:

"Because a lot of them don't trust people."

"People, Cherub, are ignorant." Tonks summarized briskly. "I know none of this is nice, but it's simply how things are. People are ignorant, they only see the...the horrors that happen once a month, they don't see werewolves as human beings. And so lots of werewolves don't trust them, which leads to them being even less trusted themselves...it's a vicious cycle, love, and there are plenty of werewolves out there caught up in it. They're uneducated, segregated and they don't turn out all that decent...which only makes their reputation worse. Your dad, on the other hand..." she trailed off to offer Remus such a bright, proud smile that Theodore felt the swell of pride in his own chest at the mere look of her.

"I went to school." Remus said, managing the ghost of a smile himself. "My parents were keen on education when I was small, they thought it would give me hope...they never expected me to go to school, of course, but I did go, I got a place at Hogwarts School when I was eleven like all the normal children. I had a decent start to life...a slightly wretched middle if truth be told, thanks to the wars. But I'd say I've had it better than all the ones who died. And then of course, I've got your mother..."

"Your dad isn't one of those damning Ministry statistics, Teddy." Tonks concluded. "And just because a whole bunch of people can't see that, doesn't mean it isn't true. If you and I can see it, Sweetheart, that's all that really matters."

Theodore turned to gaze up at his father, quite overwhelmed by the barrage of information, and as Remus gazed right back at him, swallowing an apprehensive lump from his throat, the child supposed that whether or not it was all a little baffling didn't really matter.

Like his mother said, none of it did.

Now that it was all out in the open, he honestly didn't care. He'd pick the man sat in the chair beside him over Uncle Augustus any day, he'd pick this outsider over the ignorant insider any time. Because that had been what Uncle Augustus had always been: ignorant.

And that was what Theodore had always thought he was himself: an outsider.

"Did you fight for all those ignorant people?" the boy wondered eventually, thinking of how he had stolen Uncle Augustus' wallet and felt so little guilt having done so. "When there was a war?"

"Of course I did." Remus murmured as Tonks reached across the table to retrieve their empty mugs. "Ignorance can be shameful in a grown man, Ted, but not nearly as shameful as being aware. And Voldemort knew precisely what he was doing."

Theodore shuddered.

"I think that's quite enough of that kind of talk for one night." his mother concluded as she rose from her chair, mugs in hand. "In fact it's about enough of any kind of talk, it's far past bedtime as it is."

Glancing up at the softly ticking clock upon the wall to his right, Theodore saw that it was fast approaching midnight. It felt rather strange, the boy mused, to finally know precisely what the time was having been locked away for so long, relying upon the arrival of lunches and dinners to estimate the time.

"Bed, then." Remus suggested as he too rose from his chair. "We've a busy day tomorrow, you'll need as much sleep as you can get. Come along upstairs, you can see your bedroom."

Theodore allowed the pair to lead him back out into the hallway and up the stairs, where he found himself atop a thin little landing, and as they passed a few open doors he glimpsed a couple of other rooms, the first of which his father identified as the study, a box room crammed with floor to ceiling bookcases and a small mahogany writing desk covered in stacks of papers. The second room on the left was the bathroom, opposite which his mother said was his parents' bedroom; Theodore tried to glimpse the family photograph through the crack in the door, only to become distracted when his father reached to push open the door at the end of the landing to announce:

"And this is your room."

Theodore's new bedroom, the boy discovered, was a medium sized square room containing little else besides a bed in one corner and a small chest of drawers. The walls and ceiling had been painted plain white and there were bare floorboards upon the floor. Even the bedsheets and duvet were plain and the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling was missing a lampshade.

At first, the child wasn't quite sure what to make of it, until he father explained:

"It's a blank canvas."

That, the boy had to admit, was putting it mildly.

"We didn't want to decorate it ourselves, or buy a load of furniture." his mother explained as he took a couple of hesitant steps inside. "That'll be all up to you when we go shopping tomorrow morning."

"Obviously this is all very difficult and strange to you, everything that's happening. People showing up here there and everywhere, telling you who you are and who they are...what your life is going to be like, turning everything upside down and making everything alien to you." his father put in as the child noted that even the blinds at the window were void of any semblance of colour. "So we thought you ought have a place...a room to yourself. A room that is entirely yours, that you can have any which way you want. Somewhere you can go and...and not be told anything. Somewhere you can just be you, whoever and whatever you want to be, where things will be exactly as you made them. Not how I made them, or how your mother made them, or how the Beddingtons or the war made them. Somewhere just for you."

"You can fill it with anything you like. Absolutely anything." his mother explained. "You can paint it whatever colour you like...we'll paint it all fluorescent yellow if you want or we can paint every inch of it black, whatever you want, it's all up to you. You can have carpet or you can have rugs or...or whatever and if you don't want a bed and would rather sleep in a hammock swinging from the ceiling...well, that's just fine with us. Just as long as you're comfortable in it."

Theodore simply stared, utterly stunned.

Nobody had ever asked him what colour bedroom he would like before, or what sort of bed he wanted to sleep in. Aunt Eliza hadn't even asked him what sorts of clothes he'd like to wear, she'd not even let him choose what to eat for pudding at dinner time, let alone anything like this!

_It's not your room_, she'd always informed him irritably,_ it's my room! You just happen to be sleeping in it! _

And here he was...a near empty room...and he could have it any which way he pleased!

Theodore was pretty sure that this was one of the most exciting things that had ever happened to him in his whole entire life.

He promptly turned to throw his arms around the two adults stood behind him, because he couldn't think of any words that would quite described how elated he felt, and he laughed loudly along with the pair of him when he mother simply murmured:

"_Score_!"


	18. The Worst Odds

_Note: Well, I've finally finished this chapter even though I really should be doing work! I hope somebody really enjoys it because thanks to my inability to stop writing fanfiction at inappropriate times, I'm now going to be snowed under with work for the next week! Yay!_

_Thank you so much to everybody who review the last chapter! I was so pleased to hear from so many of you! :-)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**18: The Worst Odds**

It was entirely unnatural, Remus Lupin mused, to feel as wide awake as he did at such a late hour as this. Not that anything that had been going on recently had seemed entirely natural, of course. Having your son reappear in your life like a bolt from the blue when he had been assumed dead was certainly unusual to say the least.

As he watched his wife rummage through the chest of drawers in the corner, extracting a pale white chemise and throwing it in the direction of the bed, Remus felt as if he ought say something to break the silence that had been hanging over them since they had retreated out of Teddy's bedroom, but in all honesty he didn't really know what to say. He felt rather as if whatever did get said ought be somehow significant or memorable, and nothing was coming to mind.

Instead he sat upon the bed, fiddling absent-mindedly with the hem of the duvet as he watched her shrug off her work robes, abandoning them over the back of the chair in the corner of the room.

"I'm not sure I can go to sleep, you know." Dora said, turning to offer him a rather apprehensive smile as she set about unbuttoning her blouse, and he consented to asking:

"Why?"

For a moment she didn't reply, too busy fiddling with a stubborn button that seemed a little too large for it's accompanying hole.

"I don't know..." she mumbled at last when the button finally came loose and she could shrug the garment from her shoulders. "It's almost like...like I might wake up in the morning and...and he might be gone again. It might all be my imagination."

"You'd need an impressive imagination to say the least." Remus told her, and she sniggered as she sat down upon the edge of the bed, tossing the blouse in the direction of the chair before setting about pulling off her socks.

He reached to run his fingers over the silky white material of the chemise upon the bed beside him, gazing down at it thoughtfully for a moment until she muttered:

"Merlin, it's chilly in here!"

When her hand reached over to snatch up the garment, he hastily pulled it out of her reach, forcing her to wrap her arms tightly around herself in a vain attempt to keep warm.

"Remus...!" she hissed, an odd mixture of indigence and amusement.

"Come here."

"Give it back!"

"Come and stand here."

Reluctantly she consented to walking around to his side of the bed, as as she came to a stop obediently before him she let out an involuntary shiver.

"You wait 'til winter," she whispered as he sat further up in bed, arranging the stolen shift carefully in his lap. "I'll steal your pyjamas, make you stand around naked and see how you like it..."

"Shh." he reached to pull the chemise over her head, before instructing: "Arms, please."

She took a moment to roll her eyes at him before consenting to letting him prise her arms from around her chest, slipping them through the delicate arm holes and letting the flimsy material fall into place.

"It fits." he observed, smiling broadly as if this was a surprise, his arms sliding around her waist as he pulled her towards him. As she reached to hook her arms around his neck she rolled her eyes at him again.

"Of course it fits. It doesn't change shape whilst it's in the drawer, you know..."  
"It doesn't change shape, no. But you do." His smile broadened to a grin as he allowed himself to fall back against the pillows, pulling her after him. "_I can't do it, Remus! I can't get it over my stomach, I'm too bloody fat!_"

"Shut up."

"How many times did I have to say it? _You're not fat, Dora, you're just pregnant..._"

"Shut up, shut up!" she laughed, burying her face in his collar in an attempt to smother her amusement, and he sighed dramatically, one hand reaching to tangle in her hair.

"You were such a drama queen. As if that was the time to worry about wardrobe malfunctions when Death Eaters could've blasted the door down at any moment..."

"Shut up."

"It was ridiculous."

"And I suppose you'd have been fine with it if you had been me? It would be fine if they had shown up and you'd have been dressed in nothing besides a pair of over-sized knickers and a borrowed t-shirt several sizes too big, would you? Because that would've been a bloody undignified way to go!"

"Lucky we didn't." he murmured, leaning to press a kiss to her jaw, and she smiled and whispered:

"Lucky _he_ didn't."

For a long moment they lay in silence, contemplating their luck, until she finally sighed heavily and complained:

"I mean it, you know, I just can't sleep!"

"Neither can I." Remus admitted, gazing up at the ceiling with a frown. "I keep thinking about all the things we're going to show him, what he'll think of them..."

"I can't wait to tell him about getting a Hogwarts letter."

"Me neither..."

"You have to let me tell him."

"Why?"

"Because...!"

"I want to tell him."

"You can tell him something else! You've already told him plenty of things!"

"I got to tell him about turning into a blood thirsty monster once a month! I think that entitles me to tell him something good next time round!"

"You can tell him something good! Just not that! I want to tell him that!"

"We'll play rock, paper, scissors for it."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because! You might cheat or something!"

"You think I might cheat? Dora, honestly...!"

"But you might!"

"Alright then! We'll toss a coin."

Theodore had almost as little success sleeping as his parents did that night, though when exhaustion did finally overcome him he slept dreamlessly and awoke the following morning feeling rested and more than a little excited. For a little while he lay in bed, fidgeting and listening to the sounds of running water coming from the bathroom, gazing around his empty room and wondering exactly what he was going to fill it with, what colour he would paint the walls. When his excited fidgeting became too much he slipped out of bed and crept over to his bedroom door. Pulling it open a little so that he could peer out onto the landing, he found his nostrils assaulted by the mouth-watering smell of bacon drifting upstairs from the kitchen. He felt instantly ravenous, having eaten very little the previous day, the prospect of his parents' absence having left him with no appetite at dinnertime. But after taking a few shy yet inquisitive steps out onto the landing, Theodore spotted the door to his parents' bedroom had been left open and he could at last get a decent view of the interior. He quickly lost his preoccupation with breakfast and instead tiptoed into the room, gaze roaming around searchingly.

Apparently his parents had already been up and about for a while because the bed had been made, the pale duvet so untouched that it was difficult to believe anybody had ever slept in the bed at all. It was the sort of perfection that Theodore found gave him the sudden urge to run and jump on the bed, dent the smooth linen with creases for no real reason at all. But instead the child wandered forward, reaching to run a hand across the soft surface.

Because he knew exactly what he was looking for.

There was a tiny dressing table painted pristine white and cluttered with a few perfume bottles and combs, a large matching wardrobe set in one corner with shiny brass doorknobs, and either side of the bed were perched a couple of nightstands. Upon the right hand one was an alarm clock that informed the boy that it was fast approaching half past eight in the morning...

And on the other, the object that Theodore had been looking for.

It was framed in a simple frame of thick wood. And there they were in the centre. All three of them.

His mother's hair was the most vibrant pink that he had ever seen, though her complexion was rather pale and her eyes were rimmed with dark bags. She looked utterly exhausted and rather on the weak side, though her smile was so broad that it lit up her face until she appeared to be positively glowing. Sat up in bed, dressed in a pale lemon nightdress, her head tucked under her husband's chin, she gazed down at the bundle of blankets in her arms, utterly fixated.

His father, sat snugly atop the blankets, one arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders, was carefully running a finger across the sleeping baby's forehead, smoothing a head of fine, pale green hair. As Theodore took a few more steps forwards, the soft tufts turned from green to bright ginger, causing his mother to slump back against his father's chest in silent laughter, the werewolf smothering his own amusement by landing a kiss atop the witch's head.

He looked so tiny there, lying in his mother's arms. So small and oblivious, so unaware of just how adored he was. Theodore wished he had known. He wished he'd had even the slightest clue. Maybe things might have been a whole lot more bearable if he had.

_Dumped, abandoned, discarded_. He'd heard all manner of phrases being resentfully spat by the Beddingtons when describing his appearance in their lives. Nana Plume had always told him not to listen. _It might have happened for any number of reasons_, she'd insisted, _don't ever wonder if you were unloved. Because nobody could fail to love you._

Theodore had never believed her. The Beddingtons felt nothing for him except contempt. And if they could feel so resentful towards him, then why not his parents too?

The only worry Theodore found himself with now was the realization that, despite the blood in his veins, he wasn't entirely sure how accurate a description it was to describe himself as his parents' son. They hadn't raised him, they barely knew him...

What if they couldn't love him as they had done back when he had been a baby? They might like him well enough right now, now it was all new and exciting. But what if after a while he was in some way a disappointment, or not the sort of son that they would have raised should they have had the chance? What if they felt as the Beddingtons had, that they were having a child dumped on them? What if he wasn't good enough to be a satisfactory older version of that squirming bundle of blankets that his parents had adored so much? What if they ended up wishing they'd never found him?

"I thought you might come looking for that."

At the sound of the voice in the bedroom doorway, Theodore very nearly jumped out of his skin, and as he spun around to face the speaker it suddenly dawned on him that the sound of running water from the bathroom had stopped. There stood his mother, swathed in a fluffy pale pink dressing gown, wet hair bundled up in a towel around her head and feet bare. She smelled strongly of coconut.

"Sleep alright, Cherub?" the witch asked him as she padded into the room, headed for the dressing table. When the boy simply stared at her in silence she stifled a yawn into her sleeve and admitted: "Me neither. Never mind, eh? We can try again this evening." As she pulled the towel from her head, abandoning it upon the floor, Theodore chewed rather thoughtfully upon his lip.

He'd never seen Aunt Eliza in her dressing gown with her hair in a towel in his living memory. It was almost as if such a thing was considered indecent in some way, as if his aunt would steal away into the bathroom at first light and not venture out again until she was fully clothed without a carefully styled hair out of place. In a way, though Theodore had never thought of it much before now, it gave her an air of perfection that was entirely unnatural and somewhat cold. As his mother set about tugging a comb through her hair, snagging on numerous knots that made the witch frown, his gaze returned to the photograph on the bedside table, musing that Aunt Eliza would never display such a photograph anywhere, not if she looked as dishevelled as his mother did there.

"You're barely an hour old there, you know." his mother informed him, peering at herself in the mirror, his line of sight apparently easy to predict. "Your dad nearly missed your big appearance. I kept telling your gran if she didn't get hold of him and he didn't get back from London in time for your arrival I was going to divorce him!"

"What was he doing in London?" Theodore wondered, glancing over at her, only to become suddenly mesmerised when she snatched up her wand from the dressing table and, giving it a vague wave at her head her damp hair grew suddenly dry with a hiss of steam rising up towards the ceiling.

"He was keeping an eye on some Death Eaters...or they were keeping an eye on him. Or both."

"Both...?"

"He was spying on them and got caught out. Apparently they'd known he was there for ages, they kept it to themselves until they could trap him. They didn't bet on him having borrowed an invisibility cloak, though. Confused them a second long enough to let him get away!"

Theodore simply stared at her in bemusement. It all sounded like utter chaos. Indeed, it was rather frightening.

"And then he came home and you were born and we all fussed over you, your gran snapped a photograph and Dad took it and went to tell all of our friends the good news!" Tonks finished, apparently satisfied with her reflection because she rose to her feet, turning to offer the boy a broad smile.

Theodore smiled rather uncertainly back at her. Of course it all sounded wonderful, it was fantastic to hear about how happy and excited everyone had been back then. But at the same time it made him feel dreadfully nervous again.

"Dad's making breakfast." his mother told him as she walked over to pull open the wardrobe, eying the contents in consideration before selecting a couple of garments. "If you go down and eat I'll run you a bath and find you some clothes to wear."

As he padded downstairs towards the kitchen, the strong smell of breakfast once again made Theodore's mouth water, yet he lingered somewhat nervously by the kitchen door for a long moment before pushing it open and shuffling inside. There he found his father depositing a panful of crispy bacon rashers upon a plate. As the boy shuffled forward a little further he was stopped in his tracks to see his father give his wand a vague flick, causing the plate to rise up into the air, hovering for a second before another gesture sent it flying across the room and down to set itself carefully upon the table.

Theodore was just wondering if he would ever get used to random acts of magic occurring all around him on such a regular basis when Remus turned to spot the new arrival in the kitchen.

"Good morning," the werewolf greeted, smile broad at the look upon the boy's face, and Theodore promptly blinked. He opened his mouth to say good morning in return, but found himself much too preoccupied with a sudden and rather excited question.

"Can...can I do that?" he wondered, eying the wand in his father's hand rather keenly, and Remus offered him a raised eyebrow.

"I've no doubt you could, given some practice." He turned back to the stove, rescuing a mound of fried mushrooms from being burnt to a crisp. "So, yes you _can_ do that...but at the same time, no, you _may_ not."

"Why not?" Theodore asked, rocking back on his heels in excitement. "Can't you teach me?"

"I'd rather not get you expelled from school before you've even been invited to attend it." Remus admitted, "but we won't talk about that, I've promised your mother I'll keep my mouth shut..."

"I wouldn't do it at school, I...I'd keep it secret!" Theodore insisted hopefully. "I...I don't even go to school, so...so nobody would find out..."

His father merely chuckled.

"You misunderstand me." he said, sending a bowlful of mushrooms floating over to join the plate of bacon. "It's against the law for children to practice magic outside of school."

"_Outside of_...?"

"Yes..."

When his father merely trailed off into a distinctly amused silence, Theodore turned this rather odd conversation around in his head before sucking in a deep breath to ask:

"Are you saying, then...that there's...there's like...school for witches and wiz..."

"REMUS!" his mother's voice shouted from somewhere upstairs. "YOU'RE NOT TELLING HIM, ARE YOU?"

"Telling him what, darling?" Remus shouted back, head ducking in a poor attempt to hide his amusement.

"YOU KNOW PRECISELY WHAT!"

"It's possible I might have an inkling, yes..."

There came the immediate sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs and Theodore turned just in time to see his mother burst through the kitchen door, eyes wide in horror.

"You DIDN'T!" she exclaimed, skidding across the kitchen tiles until she came to a halt before her husband, staring at him accusingly.

"I haven't told him."

"Liar! Look at your face!"

"It's not my fault if he's intelligent enough to figure it out on his own..."

Theodore watched in bemusement as Tonks reached to slap a hefty hand against Remus' arm with a frustrated little shriek.  
"I was going to tell him over breakfast!" she exclaimed, and the werewolf held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Calm down," he said, not sounding at all calming because he sounded far too amused by her annoyance. "I've not told him about Ho..."

"Good!" As she turned back towards the hallway, Tonks' gaze came to rest upon their son and she let out a snigger. "I'm going to go back upstairs," she told the boy, "before I confuse you even more than I already have done and you start to think we're complete and utter lunatics."

As she disappeared back out of the door, Theodore was beginning to think he rather liked the idea of having a pair of lunatics for parents. They were certainly far more interesting than normal ones.

"Can you do that again?" he asked his father excitedly, and he was once again offered a raised eyebrow.

"What's that? Infuriate your mother? I certainly can, it comes naturally to me..."

"No..." the child let out a giggle, before gesturing vaguely around the room and elaborating: "I mean magic! Can you do some more magic?"

"What sort of magic?" Remus asked, and at this question Theodore felt quite stumped.

"The really magic sort." the boy mumbled a little uncertainly.

"The really magic sort of magic?" Taking the last of the breakfast off the stove, the werewolf grinned and informed his son: "That's my favourite kind."

And with that, he transfigured the biscuit barrel at Teddy's elbow into a teapot. As Theodore stared in amazement, the wizard murmured:

"You watch, that'll confuse your mother when she comes back down."

"Do something else!" Theodore pleaded, utterly enamoured by such tricks that were far less daunting and far more amusing than the feats of magic he had witnessed back at the Ministry.

Objects soared through the air, glasses filled themselves with water and a fresh bunch of flowers appeared out of nowhere in the vase upon the window sill. By the time Tonks reappeared in the kitchen the entire room was buzzing with movement and magic, only for everything to stop abruptly with a lazy flick of Remus' wand.

"And...I'm going to be able to do all of that?" Theodore asked as the three of them sat down at the little table, and the werewolf graciously turned to look expectantly at his wife, waiting for her to answer.

"Well it'll take you a while. It's not as simple as it looks, magic." the witch said as she reached to spoon mushrooms onto her plate. "But that's what school's for..." she paused, grinning broadly at the curiosity upon Theodore's face before she revealed: "You'll be getting a letter soon, from a school called Hogwarts. That's where all the witches and wizards in Britain go to learn magic."

"Did you two go?"

"We certainly did! It's the most brilliant place, Teddy. You'll absolutely love it..."

At first, it seemed to Theodore that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was quite possibly the most enchanting and exciting place that he had ever heard of. Which was saying something because over the years Nana Plume had read him a lot of storybooks. He couldn't imagine going to school anywhere, let alone in an ancient castle with turrets and towers to learn to do magic...

But then his mother had told him:

"It's up north, in the Scottish Highlands."

"That's a rather long way away." Theodore observed, taken aback for a moment before he remembered: "But you can take me, can't you? Like...like when we disappear from one place and appear in another..."

"Apparation, Sweetheart."

"Yes, that. You'll do that, and take me to school..."

"Actually," his father said, setting down his knife and fork so that he could reach for his tea, "you'll be taking the Hogwarts Express..."

"A train?"

"That's right."

There was a sizeable paused before Theodore wondered:

"But...it's in Scotland! That's a really, really long way away! That would take hours and hours, how am I meant to go to school every day on a train that takes hours and hours to get there...?"

And to his horror his mother had simply chuckled and told him:  
"Well you don't do it every day, love, only at the start and end of term. Hogwarts is a boarding school."

Theodore felt instantly winded. He probably looked it too, he realised, because he could feel the colour draining from his face.

"B...boarding school?" he whispered, utterly horrified at the notion. "You...you're going to send me away to...to boarding school...?"

His parents exchanged a distinctly panicked glanced before his mother reached across the table to lay a hand upon his arm.

"We're not sending you _away_, Cherub." she insisted, "it's not like that, is it Remus?"

"No, it's not like that at all."

"We'd love you to stay here the whole time, but...well it just doesn't work like that..."

"It's perfectly normal for magical children to go away to Hogwarts."

"Exactly. It's just what we do. You'll come back during the holidays, you'll see plenty of us! It's a big adventure, Sweetheart! It'll be the best thing you've ever done!"

"Better than coming to live with you?" Theodore asked doubtfully, and again the two adults exchanged a look.

"You're not going for a long while yet." Remus pointed out reassuringly. "In fact you're not going at all if you really don't want to."

"Really? I don't have to go?"

"Of course not. It's legal to be taught at home...but I'm sure you'd regret it..."

"Dad's a rubbish teacher!"

"...don't be frightened by it, Teddy. Everybody gets nervous about going away to school, I certainly did, I was so nervous I barely spoke two words in my first week! But in the end I had the most wonderful time! You'll make lots of friends..."

"I'm not very good at making friends." Theodore mumbled glumly, only for his mother to pat him on the arm and assure him:

"You can't know that, Cherub! You've not had the chance to try!"

Theodore was only half listening. The prospect of being sent away was far too daunting and painful to let him focus properly.

"When you go to Hogwarts," his father explained slowly, voice almost soothing enough to make Theodore's heart stop thudding against his ribcage, "you get sorted into one of four Houses, and you'll have a house common room and a house dormitory to share with the other boys in your year. There won't be too many of you in one room, you'll make friends very easily. Houses tend to bind people together, everybody is very supportive of people in their own house."

"Wouldn't it be fun," his mother mused brightly, "to see what House you'll end up in? See if you take after me or after Dad or Gran or something! They've got this amazing magical hat, Ted. It's called the Sorting Hat. You put it on and it tells you which house you are going to be in, if you're a clever clogs and should be in Ravenclaw, or if you're a brave and noble prat..."

"Hey!"

"...and should be in Gryffindor like Dad and Harry."

"You got put in a house for being brave?" Theodore asked his father, his sense of despair momentarily replaced by curiosity.

"Shocking, isn't it? Scared to death, doesn't talk for a first week and yet he still ended up in Gryffindor!" Tonks grinned. "That hat's dead clever!"

"If you were so quiet and shy how did it know you were going to...going to end up being brave and...and fighting in a war and stuff?"

"It can't tell the future. It probably had no idea what I'd get up to when I grew up." Remus explained, smiling faintly as he took a sip of his tea. "But the Sorting Hat can see into your head, Teddy. It can see what sort of a person you truly are. For starters it probably saw what I was and thought I deserved to be in Gryffindor for having the sheer audacity to show up at school in the first place."

Despite his nerves Theodore felt very curious about the Sorting Hat and it's ability to know what sort of person you were. Theodore wasn't even sure he knew what sort of person he was himself, especially since Nana Plume had died and his parents had made such a sudden reappearance in his life. It was a comforting idea, to have somebody or indeed something to let you know something of your true self.

"What about you, Mum? Are you a Gryffindor too?"

"Nope. I'm a Hufflepuff. The thing most prized by Hufflepuff House is loyalty. Your gran was in Slytherin...they're a cunning bunch and they've not got themselves the best reputation ever. Especially not with Gryffindors, there's been a rivalry there since...well, forever I bet! That doesn't make them bad, you understand, there are plenty of decent Slytherins out there. It's just the ability to be cunning doesn't always lend itself to saints."

"Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin..."

"That's the four!"

Theodore mulled over these four possibilities for a long moment, chewing thoughtfully upon a mouthful of scrambled egg, before wondering:  
"What happens if you're not in any of those houses? Like...what if you're not brave enough to be in Gryffindor or...or loyal enough to be in Hufflepuff? What if you're not cunning and you're not very clever..."

"What if," Tonks interrupted, offering him a raised eyebrow over the brim of her tea cup, "you've no idea how brave you are? Or what if you've never had anybody who deserved your loyalty? Or nobody's bothered to point out you're clever or cunning and you don't even realise it?"

"Nobody knows who they are when they are eleven years old, Ted." Remus said as he set about spreading a generous amount of butter across a slice of toast. "The Sorting Hat would always put you somewhere. Nobody has ever _not_ been sorted."

"Not ever?"

"Not ever."

Theodore supposed this was all rather irrelevant. After all, he still wasn't sure he wanted to go to Hogwarts at all. He wanted to stay with his parents, he didn't want to be sent away for weeks and weeks at a time. He'd lost so much time with them, he couldn't bear to think of losing any more...

"Anyway," his mother announced brightly, rising to her feet and making a beeline for one of the kitchen drawers. "We've got other things to worry about, haven't we? Like what precisely we're going to put in that bedroom of yours!" Rummaging around for a moment she triumphantly extracted a notepad and pencil from the drawer, and Theodore's mood instantly brightened. As the three of them finished off breakfast they set about writing an elaborate shopping list that, quite frankly, Theodore found as stunning as flying plates and biscuit barrels masquerading as teapots. Paint, wallpaper, carpet, bedding, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, curtains, a wall clock, a bookcase, a desk and a chair...Theodore had no idea how everything was going to fit into such a modest space, but it was all terribly exciting all the same. Most things that morning were terribly exciting; watching the plates and cutlery from breakfast wash themselves in the sink, having a bath brimming with multi-coloured bubbles every colour of the rainbow, wandering back into his bedroom wearing his mother's too-large dressing gown to discover fresh clothes lain out upon his bed, just like Nana Plume had always left them back at the Beddingtons' house, wandering downstairs to catch a glimpse of his parents sharing a kiss in the living room, something which made most young boys' pull faces but which made Theodore's heart leap in his chest. He'd never seen Aunt Eliza and Uncle Augustus kiss like that, they would never wrap their arms around one another or stand gazing at one another for a long few moments in between. They would simply peck one another on the cheek or briefly on the lips and that would be it, as if it were a well-practiced little reflex action that didn't really mean anything. They had been married, they probably loved one another, but they weren't _in love_.

Theodore's parents were in love. Like married couples probably ought be. Like proper parents ought be. They were in love and their marriage was solid and their family was going to be solid and stable and perfect and they were going to all live happily ever after.

Because that's what being in love could do. Theodore was sure of it.

Just as long as he could fit in. Just as long as they could love him as they needed to, as long as he was lovable...

And that was the only problem, as far as Theodore was concerned. They were in love with one another, there was no problem there, and he was in love with the mere notion of them, his long lost parents and their magical, happy word. But were they truly going to be in love with the notion of him? Would they want him, was he the right sort of son? And what if he wasn't?

He grew quite over-whelmed by their shopping trip that afternoon, utterly stunned by the casual manner in which he could point out a bright, cheerful sample of turquoise paint and instantly find a couple of tins of it being handed over at the store counter. He felt bordering on giddy when, unable to decide between two sets of bedding his mother had decided to buy both. They wandered around the local muggle furniture warehouse and Theodore picked out a small pale wooden wardrobe with matching chest of drawers and a desk. They spent a good hour trying out swivel chairs in another shop, only to make a rather hasty decision when, spinning far too enthusiastically, Tonks had managed to break the chair set in the shop window, much to the store owner's displeasure. Once the basics had been purchased or ordered, Theodore was informed that muggle shops were suddenly deemed far too boring, and so it was that he found himself being apparated to a dingy looking pub which went by the name of the Leaky Cauldron. For a while the three of them lingered outside, and Theodore was just taking in the peeling paintwork and rather musky smell that seemed to be drifting out from the door when his mother wondered:

"What're we going to do, Remus, if we bump into somebody we know?"

Remus frowned deeply at this question, reaching to scratch the back of his neck as he admitted:

"I hadn't really thought about that..." He gazed down at Theodore thoughtfully before deciding: "I don't suppose we should _do_ anything, Dora. It's all going to come out in the end."

"We don't really want anybody to cause a scene in the middle of Diagon Alley though, do we?"

"I don't think they would."

Tonks' expression grew highly disbelieving.

"You don't think anybody would cause a scene to discover our supposedly dead son casually going shopping with us?"

Had he not felt nervous at the idea, Theodore might very well have sniggered.

"It'll be alright." Remus insisted, reaching to push open the door to the pub. "Nobody's going to see us, are they? What are the odds?"

What Remus didn't realise as he ushered his wife and son through the door before turning to follow them, entirely unaware that they were being watched from across the street by a trio of scruffy teenaged boys, was that the odds were more than just high. Indeed, they were completely and utterly certain.


	19. Snatched

_Note: Here we are again...at long last! Yes, I've finally gotten round to updating! This chapter marks the beginning of what I consider to be the "second half" of the story, which also happens to be the half I'm least confident writing as it involves characters I've never actually attempted to write convincingly before! In fact I still haven't decided if the characters in question will be acting too OOC as I have things planned at the moment. According to my very rough plan we have about six chapters remaining...depending on how long I end up making them/what evil cliffhangers I decide to end on! (There might be quite a few of those, consider yourselves warned!) _

_I would just like to say thank you to all of you who are still reading this story, especially those of you who are kind enough to review too. I know I have a habit of being rather slow writing this particular story, despite it being one of my more popular 'fics! I apologise profusely for that and thank you all for your patience. You've clearly all got the patience of saints because I've been writing this story for what seems to me to be forever. In fact I think I've written over 5 chaptered Meet the... stories in the time it's taken me to write this much of this story! (To think I so often foolishly promise to update my stories equally! Apparently that never happens.) _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**19: Snatched **

As he sat at the little round table outside of the ice cream parlour, dipping his spoon into an ice cream sundae of faintly ridiculous proportions that had been smothered in an array of chocolate sprinkles, Teddy Lupin found himself eying the countless magical shops up and down the cobbled street and wondering aloud:

"If I can make my hair change colour or...or make my face look different, does that mean I could give myself an extra pair of eyes?"

Sat beside him, his mother very nearly choked on her own ice cream and opposite his father sniggered and admitted:  
"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Doesn't quite work like that, Cherub." his mother said, once she had recovered from spluttering, and Teddy frowned deeply.

"I wish I could." he said as he scooped up another generous spoonful of ice cream. "That way I might see everything! There's so much to look at, I don't know where to look first!"

"If I were you I'd avoid looking downwards." Tonks suggested through a fresh mouthful of strawberry ice cream. "That way the only thing you're missing are your shoes and you won't bump into anything whilst you're walking!"

Teddy reached to snigger into his hand as Remus rolled his eyes and observed:

"Utterly genius, Dora."

"It happens." the witch quipped, shooting the werewolf a raised eyebrow. "Still, just because we've bought everything for your room, Teddy, doesn't mean we have to go home yet! We can still look around for a while..."

"When can I get a magic wand?" Teddy asked excitedly, fidgeting in his seat as he gazed at the dim looking shop across the way that his parents had pointed out to him early when they had headed to make a stop at Gringott's Bank (a visit that Teddy was sure he would never forget).

"Once you've had your Hogwarts letter."

"Will you teach me to ride a broomstick?"

"When I get a day off work."

"Do all witches and wizards write with quill pens?"

"Yes."

"Will you teach me?"

"Of course."

"Then I can write letters and send them by owl...can I have an owl?"

"Eventually...we've a family owl, you can always borrow him..."

"Then I can send a letter to Clarissa to ask her to send us some photographs!"

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Sweetheart."

"Why not?"

"I think you'd better just use the muggle post for that."

"Then I'll write to you and Dad instead! I can send it from my bedroom and it can fly down the stairs and into the kitchen...and...and then you can write back! Do you have ink like...like the ink they had in that shop, the one that changes colour whilst you write? Or we could all have a different colour and then you'd know who was writing the letter..."

Teddy found himself chattering about anything and everything that afternoon, rushing from shop window to shop window to peer inside, trying his best to take in every sight and sound, every shred of information his parents provided. He accompanied his mother into the apothecary's to stock up on a wide variety of weird, wonderful and mostly foul smelling potion ingredients, and spent the next ten minutes or so asking her to list as many different magical potions that she could recall brewing over the years. He made a second visit to Flourish and Blotts so that his father could buy a hefty stack of fresh parchment and some distinctly boring looking black ink, and spent an age examining the vast variety of colours and types of quill and ink the shop had to offer, making a very long mental list of what types and colours he thought looked most impressive. He went to eye the latest line of racing broomsticks and listened intently to his mother's analysis of which ones were too slow, which ones were the most reliable, and which one she would love to own should she ever happen to become a millionaire. He made his parents stand around waiting in one of the countless clothes shops whilst he tried on a selection of robes and cloaks in an attempt to envisage himself as a proper wizard, until his mother came across a hideously frilly cloak with an over-sized hood that entirely covered her face, which she subsequently tried on and proceeded to begin a game of chase with Teddy up and down the narrow shop aisles until the shopkeeper's frown had grown so deep that Remus concluded it was probably about time they moved on. To Teddy's disappointment, and he suspected from the look on his father's face Remus' too, they skipped the vividly decorated Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes because, his mother explained, his parents just so happened to know the Mr. Weasley who owned the shop very well indeed, and now was possibly not the best of times for him to spot a distinctly living Teddy. Instead they headed for a bookshop and Teddy told his parents about his now lost book of Myths and Legends that Nana Plume had given him, many of which Remus seemed to be very familiar with along with countless legends and stories of the magical world that Teddy was very keen to hear about indeed. The young wizard was just beginning to think that they had seen at least half the shops in Diagon Alley when, leaving the bookshop, he spotted a whole second street of shops curving away around a dingy corner. It was a narrow, shadowy street that seemed to consist of run down, dusty looking shops.

"What's down there?" Teddy asked, raising an arm to point, and Tonks let out a low whistle and muttered:

"I dread to think."

"That's Knockturn Alley." Remus explained, reaching to steer the boy sideways away from the dingy street in question towards another row of shops instead. "You best stay clear of venturing down there."

"Why?" Teddy wondered, glancing back over his shoulder to spot the chipped and faded sign at the street's entrance. Granted, it did not look like the most welcoming of places, but he couldn't help but imagine dusty old shops full of forgotten treasures and ancient magic that made his imagination run wild.

"It's not the most respectable of places," Tonks explained, "In fact it's downright dodgy. You don't want to get caught down there love, it's full of all sorts of unsavoury characters...hags, vampires..._werewolves_...!"

At the inclusion of werewolves in this list, Teddy shot his mother a frown, only for his father to agree:

"Precisely. They've all sorts of dark magical objects and the sort down there. It's no place to wander off to."

"Have you been down there?" Teddy wondered as Remus at last saw fit to drop the hand from his shoulder, and Tonks gave a groan and muttered:

"Oh, I'm down there most weeks, Cherub!"

"Why?"

"Because at least half the people visiting those shops need arresting for one thing or another. Barely a month goes by without us barging into one of those shops on a raid and trashing the place...that's how they make the majority of their money, I reckon. Compensation from the Ministry for Aurors smashing up their premises only to find they aren't guilty of something or other..." the witch trailed off with a snigger, reaching to slip a hand through the crook of Remus' arm as she recalled: "Dad pops down there every once in a while for bits and bobs...if he can't find them anywhere else."

"Is it scary?"

"For wandless little boys who barely know a thing about magic? I'd say so, yes..."

"For you and Dad?"

"Not as long as we keep our wits about us! Now come on, who wants sweets? I do, I reckon if we stuff ourselves with enough of them we might just skip lunch..."

After buying a generous paper bagful of sweets, which had taken some while because Teddy had never seen such a selection of weird and wonderful treats, Teddy and his mother sat down upon the pearly white steps of Gringott's to examine their loot whilst Remus crossed the street to a rather dingy looking shop on the corner between Diagon Alley and it's grim counterpart, Knockturn.

"What sort of shop is that?" Teddy wondered as Remus disappeared inside, and Tonks glanced over at it with a shrug as she popped a luridly coloured jelly bean into her mouth.

"It's a junk shop, pretty much."

"What's Dad want in there?"

Tonks puffed her cheeks in consideration before admitting:

"He's not buying, love, he's selling."

"What's he selling?"

"A pair of my old earrings."

"Why? Don't you like them anymore?"

Tonks gave a rather heavy sigh, frowning deeply towards the shop's entrance.

"Oh they're beautiful." she said, reaching to select another bean at random. "Just...not on me. Not anymore."

"Why?"

"They're...a bit too fancy."

"Why?"

The witch gave a rather stiff laugh and observed:

"You do ask an awful lot of questions, Cherub."

Teddy shifted his feet a little self-consciously, his gaze falling to his lap.

"I think you'd look nice," he mumbled, "in fancy things."

"Yeah?" Tonks grinned widely, reaching to stretch her legs out in front of her. "You reckon I should pester your dad for a string of pearls or two? Couple of pairs of diamond earrings and some designer dress robes!"

"Aunt Eliza used to buy designer everything." Teddy recalled with a snigger. "She even had a designer doormat to wipe muddy shoes on and...and designer toilet paper!"

"Good grief..." Tonks muttered, offering the boy a raised eyebrow. "Sounds to me as if Aunt Eliza is the definition of glamorous!" As Teddy dissolved into laughter she admitted: "That's never really been me, I'm afraid. It's just bog standard three-ply in our bathroom at home!"

Teddy laughed harder than ever and for a moment his mother joined in, gaze roaming absent-mindedly around the cobbled street as she reached for another jelly bean...

Only for it halt just short of her mouth as the witch suddenly froze, eyes growing wide.

"Sweet Merlin!" she breathed as Teddy instantly turned to try and spot what it was that she was staring at, but all he could see were the usual crowds of witches and wizards going about their shopping.

"What?" he asked excitedly, turning back to look at her, but Tonks didn't appear to hear him.

"It can't be..." the witch whispered, reaching suddenly to thrust the paper bag from her lap into Teddy's hands. "We've been trying to track him down for weeks...months!"

"Who?" Teddy asked, fidgeting excitedly as he turned back to squint searchingly through the crowds, only for his attention to snap back to his mother as she rose abruptly to her feet, having drawn her wand.

"What in Merlin's name is he doing just...strolling along..."

"Who?"

At long last Tonks dared to tear her eyes away from whatever she was staring at, and as her gaze came to rest upon Teddy she frowned deeply and muttered:

"Bugger..."

"What?" Teddy asked, only for the witch to reach suddenly down to pull him up onto his feet.

"Listen, Sweetheart," the Auror murmured hurriedly as she led him hurriedly down the steps. "I hate to do this, but...but well I can't just sit here and not do anything...boss'd kill me so...um..."

"Do anything about what?" Teddy asked, utterly baffled as they cam to an abrupt halt, but again Tonks didn't seem to be listening as she reached to lay her hands upon his shoulders.

"Teddy I need you to pop across the street into that shop for me, alright?" she told him, gesturing hurriedly over to the shop in question. "Dad's still in there, so you just go straight in and stay with him, okay? Tell him...tell him I've just dropped into work and I'll see you both back at home. Alright love?"

"Okay..." Teddy agreed, still a little mystified, and she gave his shoulder a squeeze and hurriedly exclaimed:

"Good boy! Don't let Dad buy anymore chocolate, alright?"

"Alright."

"Great!" As she turned to dash away, the Auror called over her shoulder: "Straight into the shop! Don't stop for strangers and don't hang around!"

"Yes, Mum..." Teddy found himself mumbling, very nearly sniggering at such strict instructions when he had such a short distance to walk unsupervised, and with that he obediently turned and set off across the street, glancing over his shoulder to see Tonks pushing her way through the crowd.

He had just reached the shop door and was about to reach to push it open when he became distracted by a sudden cracking sound and a bright flash of blue light. As he heard the sound of a small child giving a high pitched shriek of alarm, Teddy spun around to look down the street just in time to see a scruffy looking wizard being hoisted high up into the air by an invisible force that was dangling him upside down by the ankle, the crowds around him backing off and turning to stare. Teddy was just setting out an awed snigger when he heard Tonks' voice shout:

"AUROR DEPARTMENT! SURRENDER YOUR WAND IMMEDIATELY!"

Teddy watched the dangling wizard fumble shakily around in search of the requested object, his robes fast falling down to cover his face as Tonks informed the crowd:

"Step back please, ladies and gents, there are three warrants issued for Mr. Roach here's arrest, and this is supposed to be my morning off! So, let's not all make a fuss!"

No sooner had Roach managed to extract his wand from a pocket, it leapt from his hand, disappearing into the crowd, and a second later the force that was holding him aloft suddenly disappeared, depositing him with a shout upon the cobbles in a heap. Without a pause, Tonks began to reel off a list of his apparent crimes, causing the crowd to gasp and boo as if it were all some sort of pantomime performance, and the Auror was just informing the scruffy wizard that he was under arrest thanks to one piece of Ministry legislation or another when all of a sudden Teddy heard movement behind him, and before the boy could spin round to see who had just stepped up behind him he found an arm thrown around his middle, another clamping firmly down over his mouth...

He tried to scream. Tried desperately to yank himself free. He struggled, scratched, squirmed and fought. But it was no use...

Teddy watched in horror as the crowded street, the scores of people, his mother, his father just behind that shop door, disappeared as he found himself dragged kicking and struggling around the corner into the grimy shadows of Knockturn Alley...

Such panic seized him as his mother disappeared from view, such terror, that Teddy resorted to sinking his teeth as hard as he could into the hand across his mouth, and for a brief moment was stunned to hear a very familiar voice shriek:

"OUCH! Bloody hell, AJ, help!"

Trying to ignore his surprise, Teddy gasped in a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"MUUUUUUUUUUM! DAAAAD!"

"Shut up, Theodore! For Merlin's sake!" Andy's voice demanded, and no sooner had the shriek left him, Teddy found a second pair of arms grabbing him, another hand across his mouth...

And as he was dragged further down Knockturn Alley, Teddy suddenly felt his heart leap in his chest to hear Tonks' voice calling:

"TEDDY?"

"Shit!" AJ muttered. "She's seen us!" And with that Teddy found himself being dragged faster than ever. He continued to fight to get free, let himself go limp in an attempt to slow them down, feeling tears spring to his eyes to feel his knees scraping upon the cobbles.

He could hear his mother. He could hear her calling, she was getting closer, closer, if only he could call back to her, if only he could slow his kidnappers down...

But suddenly Dom appear in front of him, and before Teddy could kick or struggle the teenager had reached to grab hold of his legs, lifting him up into the air...

"Quick!" Dom demanded, grip upon Teddy's legs to tight that it made them throb. "Inside!"

And so it was that Tonks skidded around the corner into Knockturn Alley half a moment later, just in time for Teddy to be bundled into a nearby shop, leaving the street once again void of life...


	20. Lost Boys

_Note: It's very short! I know! But it's been forever and I thought I ought to post something! Also, as anybody who has been reading Blood Magic will know, I am now back at University and have very little time to write anything, so most chapters will be on the short side! I'm sorry about that! I hope you all enjoy it anyway!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**20: Lost Boys**

"_Rumours and speculation are rife this morning after a series of brutal raids conducted by the Auror Department have left Knockturn Alley in chaos and disarray. Sources claim the raids, conducted by a substantial team of Aurors led by Deputy Head of Aurors Nymphadora Lupin, stretched from early afternoon right into the early hours of this morning, leaving every single shop ransacked.._."

The radio clicked off abruptly as Andy jabbed a finger at the power switch, muttering:

"That bloody woman..."

From where he sat curled up in a corner of the damp, bare room, Teddy Lupin's gaze darted up from it's fixation with the bare cement flooring.

"She's my MOTHER!" he cried, eyes widening desperately. "She is! You can't keep me here! You have to let me go!"

"The Deputy Head of Aurors doesn't have a bloody kid, Theodore!" Dom snapped wearily from where he and AJ were busy sorting through the loot they had just stolen from the supermarket down the road. "We keep telling you! Everybody knows she's married to a werewolf, for Merlin's sake..."

"He's my father!" Teddy shrieked, giving his foot a frustrated stamp upon the floor. "I'm named after him! It's true! Him and...him and my grandad!"

"Werewolves don't have kids." Dom informed him bluntly. "I'm pretty sure they're incapable, and if they are they'd probably eat them come the first full moon..."

"I WANT TO GO HOME!" Teddy demanded, his utter misery and dejection having blossomed overnight into complete and utter fury. "I WANT TO GO BACK TO MY PARENTS! I WANT TO GO BACK TO MUM AND DAD!"

"You want, you want!" Andy grumbled as he stomped over to snatch up a packet of crisps from the pile the other two teenagers were sorting. "It's not all about you, you know!" And with that he tossed the bag of crisps across the room, managing to hit Teddy directly in the face. "Now shut up and eat some breakfast! We keep telling you, don't we?! We're your family now."

Teddy flung the packet of crisps back across the room, they landed with a soft thud at Andy's feet, and the tall teenager gave an irritated huff and muttered:

"Suit yourself, then!"

Teddy reached to hug his knees to his chest, forehead coming to rest against his knees and there he stayed for several long minutes, listening to his kidnappers' mumbled talk as they examined their supplies, only for footsteps to sound and the boy felt somebody slide down the wall to sit next to him.

"C'mon, Theodore." AJ's voice suggested quietly, attempting to press the crisps back into Teddy's hands. "Eat something, eh? Don't want you to starve to death, do we?"  
"I'm not Theodore, I'm Teddy." Teddy insisted, not moving a muscle, and AJ sighed, settling back against the wall.

"Alright, Teddy then. Cheese and onion or salt and vinegar?"

"Why don't you believe me?!" Teddy complained, at last sitting straighter so that he could offer the boy a glare. "It's...it's not so hard to believe, is it? My mother...she's a...a you know...like me..."

"A metamorphmagus."  
"Exactly! Exactly! And they're...they're rare, I was the only one born in an entire year! So...so if they're so rare...why is it so difficult for you all to believe that she's my mother?!"

AJ pursed his lips together in consideration, casting a sideways glance over at Dom and Andy, before leaning to half-whisper into Teddy's ear:

"It's not. Not for me, anyway."

"You believe me?!" Teddy asked, only for AJ to hiss:

"Shh! Keep your voice down!"

He busied himself for a moment prising open a packet of crisps, crunching loudly on one for a long minute and Teddy felt rather tempted to snatch the packet out of his hands. Nevertheless, when offered, the boy consented to selecting a crisp for himself.

"The others," AJ murmured, cocking his head in their direction, "they won't believe you, not for a second. Dom, he knows he won't ever find _his_ parents. They died years ago when he was only small."

"What happened to them?" Teddy whispered as he watched Dom sink down onto one of the makeshift beds in the corner to examine a damp, crumpled magazine, the scantily clad woman upon it's cover's hair looking decidedly mouldy.

"There was a War...they got killed."

"By Death Eaters?"

"Heard of them?"

"They're the ones who stole me, that's what Mum and Dad say."

"Oh..."

"Did they kill Dom's parents?"

AJ frowned deeply, biting his lip before mumbling:

"No..." He shifted a little, straightening up a bit before hurriedly telling Teddy: "Anyway, Andy's never met his parents. He and Dom used to go looking for them, you know, when they were about your age. He knows his mum's full name, you see, so they went all over the country searching! Used to go by muggle train, took ages getting anywhere and then they had to keep finding new places to sleep. By the time Andy turned fourteen he'd all but given up, nobody ever seemed to have heard of his mum...he and Dom must've been to half the wizarding villages in Britain! They started to wonder if she might've been a muggle or something, or maybe she was dead which made looking for her utterly hopeless. And then of course it got so bad that they found themselves sleeping out on a park bench in the middle of the winter, it started snowing and Andy's clothes were all wet after he slipped in a puddle. He swears he nearly died from the cold, he was going blue and shaking and everything! Dom took him to a muggle hospital...bloody horrible place it was...and that was when he decided to give up looking for his parents. They came back to London and found this place, they've been living here ever since. And that's why Andy won't ever believe you, Teddy. He looked for his parents for years and years! Nobody just...just _finds_ their parents like that as far as he's concerned. It just ain't going to happen."

"But you believe me," Teddy whispered hopefully. "What about you?"

"I'm different." AJ admitted through a mouthful of crisps. "I'm not like Dom and Andy. I'm more like you." The teenager paused to glance over at his companions again to find Dom engrossed in his magazine and Andy busy with a stubby pencil scrawling graffiti on one wall. "After his parents died "Dom got taken in by this nice gent who owned this shop...mouldy old place it was, but it was full of loads of cool stuff...trinkets, magical items, really rare and interesting, tucked down in a corner of Knockturn Alley, it was. And that's where Dom met Andy, when they were both kids, because Andy got taken in there too. The shop got raided by the Aurors when they were about nine or so and they did a runner. That's when they started looking for Andy's parents. I didn't meet them until they'd given up and come back to London because when I was a kid I lived in a children's home. It was crap. I hated it. I ran away when I was twelve, broke into the office and stole my file before I left. I found out who my parents were, where they were from...and that's why I'm different, Teddy. Dom and Andy won't ever find their parents. But I did. I found mine."

"You did?" Teddy breathed, leaning forward eagerly to hear more. "What happened?!"

AJ gave a rather bitter huff, shaking his head.

"You know Teddy," he said, reaching to scrunch the now empty crisp packet up into a tight ball in his fist. "They stick kids in homes like that for all sorts of reasons...your parents are dead or...or your mum can't afford to look after you...your dad's too sick to take care of a kid...stuff like that. And it's sad but...but you sort of got it, you know? It was crap, but you'd think well...at least mum loved me and tried to look after me or...or if dad wasn't sick he'd come get me in a heartbeat. But it turns out they didn't always tell you the real reason you were there. My parents...they didn't have an excuse. I met them. They weren't dead. They weren't poor. They weren't sick. They just...they just didn't care about me. They didn't want me. That was why I was in the home. My parents just didn't want me." He gave a somewhat high, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head, and Teddy felt his cheeks warming a little awkwardly as he murmured:

"I'm sorry..."

"Oh it's not your fault my parents are a pair of useless, shallow minded idiots," AJ assured him, suddenly sounding brighter. "There are a load of sad excuses for people in the world, you know. That's just how it is. I don't care, you know...it's their loss! Not mine!"

"I guess..." Teddy mumbled, not at all sure that he was convinced by this at all, and AJ went on:

"But the point is I _did _find them. It isn't impossible. If I could find my parents then...well you could find yours."

Teddy eyed his shoes for a long moment, frowning deeply before turning to fix AJ with imploring eyes.

"What if they had wanted you?" he asked, "What if they weren't that shallow? What if they were good? What if...what if you'd met your parents and...and before you even knew them, before they even had any clue that you were their son, they'd been kind to you and treated you well? What if...what if when your mum realised who you were she...she was so happy to find you that she cried? What if your parents had welcomed you home and...and taken care of you and...and loved you? You'd not be here now, would you? Not for...not for anything in the world!"

"Of course I wouldn't." AJ agreed, smiling sadly. "If all that had happened I'd have stayed with them forever...never let them go..."

"Then won't you let me go?" Teddy pleaded, feeling his pleading gaze grow distinctly watery. "Because that's me, AJ. That's me and my parents. They're good people, they're good to me! They want me, they love me, they really do! Please! Don't...don't keep me here..."

"You can't just leave, Teddy." AJ pointed out as if it were all rather obvious, though he did sound a little apologetic. "Like Andy says, you're one of us now..."

"But I'm not!" Teddy exclaimed, utterly frustrated. "I'm not one of you at all!"

"Shh!" AJ insisted when Andy paused in his scrawling to glance round at the two of them with a scowl. Once Andy's back was turned again, AJ explained: "We need you, Teddy. We can't do it without you..."

"Do what?" Teddy asked, reaching to swipe the tears away from his eyes with a sleeve. "I...I'm not...I'm not helping you steal anything or...or..."

"This isn't just anything, Teddy!" AJ told him, face lighting up with sudden excitement. "This is the _Hand of Glory_!"

"The what?" Teddy murmured despairingly, reaching to tug miserably at his hair, and Andy turned back to offer him a wide grin.

"The Hand of Glory!" the ringleader exclaimed, clapping his hands together in delight at the notion. "We know exactly where it is, don't we AJ?"  
"Yep!"

"Because we know who bought it years ago in Knockturn Alley, don't we?"

"A certain Mr _Draco Malfoy_," AJ recited, grinning broadly, "of _Malfoy Manor_, in Wiltshire."

"Exactly!" Andy agreed, throwing his arms up in emphasis. "And _we_, Theodore, are catching the twelve o'clock train over there this afternoon!"


	21. Sporadic Sense

_Note: Worst. Chapter. EVER. Sorry! It was awfully tricky and...urgh! _

_This chapter is dedicated to** thepiperscuriosity**. I apologise for dedicating such a sad excuse for a chapter to you, but hopefully you will enjoy it anyway!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**21: Sporadic Sense**

The cold marble floor was chilly and hard upon her back as she lay staring up towards the ceiling, the sight above swimming before her as she gasped in breath after salty breath.

Somewhere in the distance, somebody was hammering a fist upon a door.

She could barely hear it.

She didn't care.

Scours of paper and parchment floated around above her from where she had struck a stack of files flying with a wild sweep of her wand, the burst of magic leaving them to drift in an oddly serene fashion through the air.

She imagined being buried alive by them. Suffocated to death. And oh, what a relief! What glorious release, what perfect rest from her gasping, choking breaths...

"TONKS!" a voice demanded vaguely from out in the corridor beyond. "For the love of Merlin, open this door!"

She wouldn't. She couldn't. Couldn't move, could barely breathe, her throat was closing up, she was sure of it, she was choking.

She hoped it would kill her.

"I'll break it down!" the voice threatened. "I will! I mean it!"

A piece of parchment drifted down to rest upon her chest, and she stared at it, the rapid rise and fall, the choked gasping ringing in her ears...

"Have you found Remus yet?" the voice called, probably not to her, and then: "WELL BLOODY WELL HURRY UP AND FIND HIM, SHE'S IN A BAD WAY!"

She had no idea where Remus was now.

She hoped they didn't find him.

When she had first burst into the shop, half falling through the doorway and launching herself at the front of his robes to announce hysterically that Teddy was gone, the look of sheer horror that had materialised upon her husband's face had very nearly broken her entirely. But she had held it together then, managed to process his demand that she send word to the Ministry. Then he had disappeared off into Knockturn Alley to look for their missing son, and within half an hour she had joined him with a flood of Aurors in tow, ransacking shops, leaving not a single stone unturned. In the chaos she and Remus had lost one another, she had barely noticed he was gone, so preoccupied was she with looking for Teddy...

She had tried to pretend it was a normal raid, a normal day at work, tried to remain calm and collected, tried to think clearly...

She'd kept it up for hours. It was a wonder how she had done it.

And then she'd tripped over a grotesquely carved antique coffee table in one of the grimy little shops and had somehow managed to smash her fist through a glass cabinet containing a strange looking plant of one form or another as she fell.

And as she smashed the glass, the shards embedding themselves painfully in her hand, a sudden stinging sensation erupting up her arm as her bleeding fist plunged straight into the mass of strange leaves within, her composure had been smashed too.

She'd grown instantly hysterical, hopeless, utterly devoid of all reason.

Teddy was gone.

He was just gone. Forever. It was all useless, they wouldn't get him back.

And it was all her fault.

Again.

She didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve that sweet little boy, she wasn't fit to call herself his mother. She wished she'd never found him, wish she'd left him alone, wished even for a moment that she hadn't brought him into this cruel, dreadful world because it was just too awful.

He deserved so much better than all of this.

And Remus. Merlin, she couldn't bear to think of ever laying eyes upon him ever again. She couldn't bear to think of the Aurors finding him and bringing him here. It would be utterly unbearable, she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye, he who she loved so much, he who she had devastated so entirely.

Again.

She'd shrieked and babbled and sobbed like a madwoman as Harry had dragged her back to the Ministry, and the Head of Aurors had rather lost his own composure then too, bundling her into his office, shoving her clumsily up against a wall and pinning her there with his hands upon her shoulders.

_You need to calm down, Tonks_, he'd pleaded, struggling a little when in her madness she had attempted to fight him off, longing to sink to the floor and stay there forever. _You need to stay calm, for Teddy's sake. You're...you're hurt...you need...somebody needs to take a look at you..._

She'd shrieked at him. She didn't know what the words were, if they had been words at all, but she'd flung them at him anyway, and he'd resorted to throwing his arms around her, clinging to her so tightly that she simply hung limp in his arms.

He'd stood there murmuring Merlin knew what for minutes...hours, who knew? She had started to feel quite faint and sickly, and yet had somehow managed to plant her feet firmly on the ground when he had finally released her to step outside into the corridor to talk to...somebody or other.

_The Minister sent for me to take her to the hospital_, the somebody had said, and Harry had insisted:

_She won't go with you. She won't go anywhere, she said..._

Had she? She had no recollection of doing so...

_She needs to go to the hospital, that plant might have been poisonous and I hear she's had some sort of dreadful shock..._

_I know...we're all worried about her but...well unless you want to stun her and carry her off on a stretcher...!_

_That's not how we do these things, Mr. Potter..._

_Well obviously..._

._..we don't stun our patients, we sedate them..._

She'd instantly made a wild dash for the door, slamming it shut, fumbling for the wand in her pocket and reeling off a delirious list of spells to keep it that way.

She'd taken furious aim at a few random objects in the office, including the stack of files, the bangs and crashes not feeling nearly satisfying enough, before sinking to the floor, waiting...

She didn't really know what for.

Death, perhaps. Or clarity. Or both.

Her fist was still stinging.

She raised it shakily up in front of her face for inspection and found it bloodied and tinged a distinctly unhealthy green.

If she had been poisoned, she mused with a sniff as she reached with her other hand to prod gingerly at the wound, it really wasn't good enough. She didn't feel remotely as if it might kill her, and any time now Harry was going to have broken the door down.

She wondered if perhaps she had smashed the glass on purpose, if it had been a subconscious attempt to put a stop to this nightmare...

She waited for the little voice inside her head to laugh and pass this thought off as wild nonsense, since that was of course precisely what it was.

But there was no laughter. No little voice...

Merlin, the witch thought, watching a droplet of blood seep from the wound, trickling down between her knuckles before clinging to the underside of a finger, that had never happened before.

She had never had thoughts like that. Unsuppressed thoughts like that...

Suicidal thoughts like that.

She'd willed herself to die on occasion, she'd willed herself to die for days when Teddy had been snatched the first time. But she had always known it wouldn't happen. She had known she'd make no active effort to make it happen.

She had known simply willing it to happen would never make it so, and had known that this was a good thing.

And yet, just now...

She could think of more than just willing. She could think of actions. Real, actual actions...

She hastily reached to snatch her wand up from where she had abandoned it beside her and, frightened by her moment of weakness, reached to throw it across the room away from her.

Just in case.

Because she didn't trust herself, not anymore. Not one bit.

She tried to lie very still, as if she might just save herself from Merlin knew what that might invade her mind now that it was so utterly broken and devoid of sense.

The concentration at long last made her feel a little calmer, as if she might regain a shred of sense at last...

The shred of sense, when it did seep back into her mind, only served to frighten her even more, and she squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a deep, panicked breath...

The door burst open so violently that it was very nearly flung off it's heavy hinges, but Dora barely flinched.

Somebody dropped down upon their knees beside her, and she blinked, gazing up at them.

She had expected Harry.

She had expected wrong.

Had the sight of Remus' face not thrown her so dreadfully, she might have wondered just how long it had been since she had barricaded herself inside the office, but as it was she could not manage to wonder much at all.

She couldn't think to ask if he had found Teddy, if he had found anything at all, but she gasped in a breath to say...who knew what? But before she could utter a word Remus had reached to press a hand to her cheek.

"Don't speak." the werewolf murmured, voice sounding distinctly strained. "Try to...try to take some deep breaths..."

He looked ill, she realised. Deathly pale and positively bedraggled. His clothes were damp from the rain that had started to fall at some point during their search and as he leant forward, bent low towards the floor until his lips brushed her ear she thought his eyes looked...puffy...

"Be calm, my darling." she heard him breath, fingers brushing somewhat shakily against her cheek in an attempt to soothe her. "Take some deep breaths and show them you can be calm. Don't let them cart you off to Mungo's unconscious, you'll be stuck in there for much too long. Get up and walk there, won't you? We'll be home far sooner, I promise."

"I...I don't want to go to M...Mungo's or...anywhere..."

"Shh, Dora. Please. Please don't...don't let them see you like this, I...I want to take you home. I want us to go home, I...I need you with me...I need you, Dora. Please don't let them see you like this, they'll take you to hospital whether you like it or not...don't...don't make them keep you there, please don't..."

"Y...you don't...you don't n...need m...me...nobody n...needs me I...I'm...I'm just..."

"Don't say that. None of...none of it's your fault. It's not your fault, Dora, it really isn't..."

She made to slump sideways against him so that she might bury her face in his shoulder and not have to look at the state of him, but he reached to cup her face in his hands and before she knew it they were forehead to forehead, gazing at one another so intently that she had to bite her tongue against a sob.

"I won't lose our son again, Dora, I mean it, I refuse." Remus insisted, voice surprisingly fierce for one who looked so broken. "I won't. We won't. We will find him, I'm telling you we will. It's not like before, it's not hopeless, I won't hear you tell me otherwise. We will find Teddy. But not now. Not like this. Look at the pair of us, darling. We're entirely spent."

There was a sizeable pause as she slowly processed this information, which slowly seemed reassuringly logical, then with a sniff she admitted:

"I'm so, so tired..."

"It's nearly three o'clock in the morning." Remus explained, and at this shred of reality she felt as if her mind was slowly clearing.

"Is...is it really? Have we...have we really been searching for..." she tried to do the maths, failed, and was glad when he supplied:

"We've been looking for at least nine hours."

"Nine hours?"

"Yes..."

Whilst she felt somewhat awed by such an abrupt passage of time, Remus' expression grew anxious at his calculations as he elaborated:  
"That's at least nine hours that...that Teddy's been...gone. Without us. Merlin..." He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands dropping from her face as he leant back from her, swaying a little with fatigue. "I...I can't think to rest...not when I think about it like that. I know I said...but...but nine hours...!"

"No, no!" Dora cried, reaching to grab hold of him firmly by the elbow, if only to steady him a little. "You were perfectly right, love. Look...look at us! We're no use to him like this, you're absolutely right."

She wondered where her sudden strength had come from, her sudden certainty. Perhaps she just wanted something to cling on to, something to believe, and the idea of the two of them having a rest was the only option being offered to her.

Whilst her composure was beginning to rebuild itself, Remus' was apparently crumbling.

"What do you suppose they want with him...whoever...whoever they are?" he wondered, increasingly troubled, and for the first time that night Dora actually attempted to give this question some serious, calm consideration.

"I don't think they mean to hurt him." she decided after a little while, gazing thoughtfully down at her bloodied hand. "They don't...they don't quite seem the sort. I know I only caught a glimpse of them, but I'm sure they're the boys Teddy told me about and...they're no Death Eaters, that's for sure."

Remus sobered again at this theory, and for a moment he too gazed down at her hand, before carefully reaching to lift it up for closer inspection. As he frowned deeply at the wound, it began to occur to Dora that it was growing increasingly painful.

She still didn't entirely care.

Remus' expression suggested that he seemingly cared a great deal, and Dora marvelled at him.

"I don't know how you can so much as look at me," she whispered miserably, "let alone fret over a...a silly little cut on my hand like...like that."

His gaze shot up to look at her and he wondered:

"Why in the world could I not look at you?"

She gave a small squeak of a laugh as if she thought him quite mad for needing to ask.

"Why would you want to? The pain and misery I cause!"

"Pain and misery?" he echoed, lips twitching towards a smile as he reached to take hold of her by her good hand. "I don't know what you mean. You've been all that is joyful in my world, Dora. I'd be in eternal pain without you."

"And what about Teddy?" she asked him dismally. "Look at all the dreadful things I've caused him! He'll never forgive me, he'll hate me for it..."

"You mustn't blame yourself..."

"I...I hate me for it. I...I wish...I wish I hadn't found him! He was...he was better off...better off without me..."

"For the love of Merlin, don't say that!" Remus told her, rising abruptly to his feet as if her words had scalded him. "Don't you ever let me hear you say that, Dora! I mean it, don't!" he reached down to offer her his hand as he insisted: "Get up, it's doing us no good sitting around here..."

"Why shouldn't I say it?" Dora mumbled glumly, though she consented to taking his hand so that he could half-drag her back onto her feet. She stumbled, her head spinning and fuzzy, but he made no attempts to steady her for he was much too preoccupied with her words instead.

"Because my darling," he told her, reaching to run a hand across his weary face in an attempt to wipe the tears and fatigue from his features, "I simply can't stand to hear it. For once you do truly pain me."

It was not until almost six o'clock that morning that the two of them finally fell into bed, her hand swathed in bandages and a sickened taste lingering in her mouth from one potion or another.

Harry, who had accompanied them to the hospital and sat somewhat tentatively at Remus' side in the waiting room for Dora to be released, had escorted the pair of them home as if they might get lost somewhere within the floo network between St. Mungo's and their house.

"We will find him." he'd assured the two parents firmly. "We will, I swear it."

Dora had bundled him back into the floo with barely a word, and then she had reached to take Remus by the hand and lead him wearily towards the stairs.

"We'll have a sleep." she'd decided firmly, nodding her head as she led the way up the steps. "Just...just a short one, right?"

"Yes, only a short one."

"Just so we're...a bit more with it. Just a couple of hours or so..."

"No longer than that."

"Exactly."

"Then we'll get up and carry on looking."

"Precisely."

Remus had set an alarm for half past eight and the two of them had drifted off into reluctant, fitful sleep, chasing after muggle cars with wailing infants, running through dingy cobbled streets, frantically searching as the the streets grew ever darker, ever more narrow...

Remus awoke at noon.

He gazed blearily at the alarm clock and waited for some form of horror or panic to descend. But it simply didn't come.

He felt drained.

He stumbled groggily out of bed, casting a despairingly glance at his still-sleeping wife as he did, before stumbling downstairs to put the kettle on.

He stood waiting for steam to rise from the spout. Calmly.

He had been so determined to remain calm the night before, but had only managed to do so sporadically. He had wandered round any significant areas of both magical and muggle London that had come to mind, feeling quite calm and focused for a time, only to catch sight of his weary reflection in a shop window, or realise he was going in circles and quite abruptly he would have a sudden bout of despair or madness or a mixture of both, stood stock still in the middle of the dimly lit street, his face buried in his hands, collapsed on a roadside curb trembling, kicking at lamp posts and letting tears seep freely from his eyes.

But he felt as if his composure was far more solid now. He even managed to feel bordering on amused that at a time like this he had gravitated towards the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Glancing out of the window he found that the sun was shining after the downpour the night beforehand, and somehow it made him feel hopeful. By the time he had finished making the tea and was levitating it up the stairs upon a tray, Remus felt entirely satisfied that oversleeping had in actual fact been a good thing.

He found Dora awake when he returned, equally unconcerned by the late hour as she sat gazing thoughtfully down at her lap, picking at a loose thread upon the duvet.

"I dreamt I saw her," the witch murmured as he set the tray down upon the bedside table and slipped back under the covers beside her. "The woman, I mean. The woman with the blonde hair."

He offered her a cup and saucer in silence and she drank the scalding liquid as if it were only luke warm, draining the teacup in just few large gulps, before letting the china come to rest askew in her lap.

"I know who she is." she murmured, gazing down at the empty teacup as he sipped at his own tea in a far more cautious fashion. "I suppose I knew as soon as the Beddingtons described her to us...I just...I don't know...it didn't seem important...not then, at least."

"Is it important now?" he wondered, not entirely sure, and she mumbled:

"I don't know...is it?"

He sipped at his tea, frowning deeply before the witch asked:

"But I'm right, aren't I? It...it was her, wasn't it?" She sat a little straighter, the chine clinking in her lap as she turned to fix him with wide eyes. "It _was_ Narcissa, wasn't it Remus? Who...who took Teddy and gave him to the muggles..."

"I'd say given the description, Narcissa Malfoy does spring to mind..." Remus agreed, not entirely sure what the point of this conversation was, though much calmer than the previous night, he felt as if really they ought be discussing where to look for Teddy next, ought stay focused on that...

He felt yet more bemused when Dora settled back down against her pillows and wondered:

"Why d'you think she did it?"

"I...well..."

"It's just if she gave a toss about him...if she cared enough to snatch him away from the Death Eaters, surely she'd bother to return him to us. Rather than just...dump him on some...some bloody awful muggles who...who didn't want him or...or love him or..." She paused with a sniff, reaching to swipe a sleeve across her eyes, and Remus mused:

"I think if I were to have snatched a baby from under Voldemort's nose I'd have dumped it on whoever I came across first...wash my hands of it as quickly as possible. I'd certainly not have gone looking for the enemy so that I could hand the baby back! She'd never have found us, Dora, we wouldn't have let her near us..."

Dora's expression grew abruptly furious.

"The war ended almost a decade ago!" she exclaimed through gritted teeth. "That's...that's ten...ten whole years, Remus! Ten whole years of...of her keeping quiet! Ten years of silence! She knew our son was alive and she...she just...just did nothing! Just...just sat back and...and let us think he was dead! What sort of a person...what sort of...of _mother_ could do that?! There must...there must be some shred of compassion in her somewhere! There must, if she saved Teddy to begin with! She...she loves that son of hers, doesn't she?! She knows how...how painful it would be to lose him! Why would she just...just let us...let us go on like that?!"

"I don't know, darling..." Remus mumbled wearily, only to feel alarmed when Dora abruptly reached to throw back the covers with her thickly bandaged hand, very nearly sending her empty cup and saucer flying.

"Yeah, well we'll find out, won't we?!" she decided as she got purposefully to her feet, making a beeline for the wardrobe.

"Will we...?" the werewolf wondered, feeling quite apprehensive at the notion, only for his wife to snap:

"Yes, Remus! We will! Because if there's some crucial reason why she had to keep it all a secret I want to bloody hear it!"

"I...I'm not sure that's a very good id..."

"She could know something important!"

"Yes but Dora...we're talking about _Narcissa Malfoy_...!"

"She might know who the boys who took him are!"

"We're talking about the _Malfoys_, Dora! Former _Death Eaters_...!"

"She might know why they took him!"

"We're talking a couple of former members of the_ Order of the Phoenix_..."

"And if she doesn't..."

"...wandering up the driveway of _Malfoy Manor_..."

"...I don't give a toss..."

"...knocking on the _door_, for Merlin's sake! And..."

"...I want to shame her! I want her to feel bloody ashamed of herself!"

"...having a chat about those _good old times during the war_..."

"I want her to look me in the eye and tell me why she kept quiet!"

"...when we all used to try and _murder_ one another on a daily basis! It's _insane_!"

"And she _will_ be ashamed!" Dora concluded, reaching to yank some clothes out of the wardrobe, tossing them forcefully down onto the bed. "Because by the time we're finished I'll make that darling aunt of mine wish Augustus Beddington had knocked her down with that bloody car of his!"

And with that, she stomped out of the room and across the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Remus stared after her, eyes as wide as snitches.

"Oh Merlin..." he mumbled, a lump forming in his throat.

It was not until he went to hastily scramble out of bed a moment later that he discovered that he had apparently succeeded in pouring the remainder of his cup of tea into his lap.


	22. Two Mothers

_Note: It's been a ridiculously long time coming, once again, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! Thank you to my loyal reviewers who have stuck with me despite my lack of updates! What a wonderful bunch of people you are! :-)_

**22: Two Mothers**

Teddy Lupin had never seen a grander house in his life.

Nor a house more intimidating. As he shuffled through the shadows of the once grand yet now overgrown hedges that ran beside the vast, long gravel driveway, Teddy felt sick to the stomach as he peered past the other boys in front of him to eye the tall, gothic mansion with its dark windows guarded by gruesome looking carved gargoyles and it's grand stone steps leading to a huge double-doored entrance.

Malfoy Manor seemed more like a fortress than a home. It seemed unconventional to have found the tall dark iron gates at the foot of the drive some distance behind them not locked shut.

"We'll go round the back!" Andy was hissing to the others as they crept forward, edging carefully around the flood of light from a couple of large lamps hung either side of the doors. "Get a good look around..."

Teddy could feel a deep sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to break into a place like this, this grand and ancient looking place that was dark and shadowy despite a series of soft lights from a few of the windows. It was daytime and yet this place seemed so dark. Sneaking through the shadows as they were made it seem almost like early evening and the heavy grey clouds above them threatened rain. Teddy's feet were sore and aching, it had been a long walk from the small village's train station out into the countryside and he had barely slept the night beforehand. He had remained entirely mute since the older boys had bundled him onto the train a few hours earlier because silence seemed like the only form of protest he could truly muster...

The other boys came to a halt and started muttering to one another, glancing curiously at the house before them. Teddy stood motionlessly behind them, too despairing to even listen.

He wondered where his parents were, what they were doing...

He recalled hearing his mother calling out to him, shouting his name at the top of her lungs. He wondered if she was still looking for him, if his father was looking too, if they would ever succeed in finding him...

If he'd ever see his parents again...

Dom and AJ were cut off midway through bickering about their plans by a soft popping noise, and Teddy jumped a little when the three teenagers spun around to look down the driveway towards the source of the noise. Teddy was just turning round to gaze in the same direction, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest when there came a second popping noise and pounding footsteps upon gravel...

Dom promptly seized Teddy by the arm and before he knew it Teddy found himself being dragged into the bushes, wincing as the twigs scratched and clawed at his clothes.

"Shh!" Andy hissed as AJ muttered a curse when a twig scratched his cheek. "Somebody's coming!"

And when the four boys leant to peer out of the bushes to catch a glimpse of who was rushing up the gravel driveway, Teddy gasped in a breath of shock at who appeared before him, only for Andy to yank him backwards and AJ to clamp a hand over the youngest boy's mouth, forcing Teddy to look on mutely as his mother came stalking up the driveway, magic wand in hand as her fingers curled into tight fists.

"WAIT!" a voice called from behind the Auror, and Teddy watched as his father came skidding up behind his mother, reaching to fling his arms around her middle in an attempt to halt her furious progress.

"Don't stop me..."

"Don't stop you? Stop yourself, Dora, for Merlin's sake! Stop and...and think about it!"

"I have thought about it."

"Have you? Truly?!"

"Yes..."

"Well think again, won't you? The Malfoys, Dora! Former Death Eaters and...and us! Former Order members...knocking on their door...!"

"What d'you think they're going to do? Hex us?"

"What are you going to do? Hex them?!"

At this accusation, Dora wrenched herself free from her husband's grasp, snapping:

"If it'll give me answers I might bloody well do!"

"Dora...please...!"

"What if she knows something?!" the witch exclaimed, voice a pitch higher than usual as her husband reached to rake a wary hand through his hair. "What if she can...can tell us about Teddy?!"

"Tell us what about Teddy?!" Remus cried in frustration, hastily making to plant himself between his wife and the steps leading up to the doors. "That doesn't...that doesn't matter anymore, Dora! It doesn't matter what happened back then! What matters is...is what happened yesterday! What...what happens now!"

"But I have to know!" Dora exclaimed, dark eyes widening quite madly, causing her husband to rock back upon his heels in apprehension. "Don't...don't you want to know?!"

"Yes but...I..."

"She...we...we deserve to...to know!"

"I know, but let's...let's not do it like this! Let's...let's write to the Ministry...let them come and...and ask questions..."

"It's not the same! I...I want her to...to look me in the eye and...and tell me the truth!"

As the witch made to sidestep the werewolf, taking the stone steps two at a time, Remus turned to stare despairingly after her.

"At least put your wand away before you knock on the door..." he pleaded as he wandered up the stairs after her at a far less than enthusiastic pace, and yet as he watched, struggling against his captor's grip upon him, Teddy saw the werewolf reach to slip a hand into his pocket, fingers gripping hold of his own wand.

Without so much as a moment's hesitation, Dora reached for the enormous door knocker – a silver snake curled into a neat circle. The Auror gave the door three heavy knocks before taking a large step backwards...

She had seen them coming.

The sight of them moving with alarming speed up the driveway of her house had struck her dumb.

As she paused upon the grand staircase to stare out of the window at the approaching witch and wizard, Narcissa Malfoy had felt the blood drain from her face as her grip upon the silver tray in her hands had slackened in horror...

Silver tea service and china cups had fallen to the floor with an almighty crash and yet Narcissa didn't notice.

She watched, a horrible sense of resignation settling over her stomach as Nymphadora Lupin's progression was momentarily halted by her husband throwing his arms around her, holding her back, and yet Narcissa could see the move was entirely futile.

Because there was no doubt about it.

Nymphadora Lupin wanted answers. And she wasn't going to leave until Narcissa Malfoy gave them to her.

The pale haired witch took a step back from the window, bone china crunching underfoot as her heart began to pound in her chest. It was a strange sensation, for the witch was sure that it wasn't fear that was making her stomach twist into knots or her hands tremble until she clasped them together to force them to be still.

No indeed, this was a feeling worse than fear by far...

Guilt, Narcissa identified as she leant back against the grandly carved wooden bannister, gripping hold of it as her gaze wandered up towards the tall ceiling above her. She felt overwhelmed by such a sudden wave of guilt...

Guilt for her actions all those years ago...

Even worse, she thought as a loud banging upon the front door below made her flinch, she felt guilty about feeling guilty! It seemed like a betrayal, of sorts.

Because it ought be quite beyond her to feel guilt in relation to people like them. People like them didn't deserve anything from people like her, that's what Lucius would no doubt say, in fact if Lucius knew a thing about this, Narcissa's great secret that she had kept for all these years, he'd probably say the child was better off with a couple of dim-witted muggles than with a pair of abominations for parents...

Yes, that would be what Lucius would say.

And yet for all she would agree that the world was better off without monsters raising children, without the persistent dirtying of magical blood until there was barely a drop of decent pure blood left, Narcissa felt as if she had truly done a terrible wrong.

It was, she suspected as she sucked in a deep, composing breath, all down to the fact that despite everything, no matter how much she wished to deny it, there was a connection of sorts between herself and the woman stood waiting upon the doorstep downstairs.

It had nothing to do with blood. They weren't related. There were words, of course, certain names that the misfortunes of technicalities afforded to them. Words that Narcissa chose to ignore. Words like relative, words like aunt and niece, words that were to Narcissa's mind simply that: Words. But there were no words that described the relationship Narcissa Malfoy had with her estranged sister's daughter, instead there were only feelings. Feelings that they no doubt shared.

The feeling of giving birth to a first and only born child and holding him close and feeling so awash with love that one might swear never to let him go.

The feeling that nothing in this life or indeed the next could ever be more precious than that one single child.

The feeling of sheer terror at the mere thought of losing him, of him being in danger.

The feeling of helplessness when war let your family plummet for rock bottom at such speed that you couldn't cling on to that precious boy of yours, no matter how fiercely you tried...

Narcissa had been lucky. Through chance she had been given the briefest opportunity to catch hold of her darling boy before Voldemort could rip him away from her forever, before the heart could be torn clear from her chest.

There had been no luck for her fellow mother, however. When Voldemort had set his sights on her precious little child there had been no chances. No chances at all.

And the mere thought that Narcissa could so easily have faced the same dreadful loss, to imagine losing her Draco...

To think, Nymphadora Lupin had gone all these years carrying such an all-consuming and terrible burden, had gone all these years thinking her son was lost...

As a mother the thought made Narcissa Malfoy positively sick with guilt.

Because she could have done more.

She should have done more.

Because no mother, no matter who or what she was, deserved to be plagued by a burden like that.

"Mother!" The sound of Draco's voice from somewhere downstairs made Narcissa jump a little. "There's somebody at the door!"

For a brief moment Narcissa felt a horrible urge to turn and run back upstairs, but then Draco's impatient voice had demanded:

"Well?! Are you going to answer it or am I going to have to?!"

The thought of Draco discovering what she had done made Narcissa bolt downstairs as if her very life depended on it.

"I...I've got it, Draco!" she called breathlessly as she passed the drawing room door where her son was sat lounging upon a sofa, scowling at a copy of the Daily Prophet, his wife Astoria sat beside him, their young son Scorpius sat upon her lap. The sight of the young family only made Narcissa feel worse. She swept down the long hallway until she reached the doors, pausing to take a few deep breaths, attempting to compose herself, steeling her nerves before slowly pulling the door open a little until she could peer round the gap.

When the door did finally open and Dora found herself face to face with Narcissa Malfoy, she felt as if all the wind had suddenly disappeared from her sails.

She found that she could do little but stare at the former Death Eater's wife.

Narcissa stared back.

An age seemed to pass in complete and utter silence before the blonde witch seemed to find Dora's staring uncomfortable for she straightened up, shifting her feet a little before inquiring in a decidedly cool tone:

"Yes?"

Dora opened and closed her mouth a few times in an attempt to speak, finally managing:  
"My...my son..."

"What about him?" Narcissa asked sharply, folding her arms firmly across her chest. She wouldn't let her composure falter, she simply couldn't, perhaps it was cruel but she didn't trust herself to act in any other way. Her emotions might get the better of her...

Dora, upon hearing Remus taking a step up behind her, swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You took him." she said, suddenly equally as sharp.

Narcissa couldn't help but edge backwards ever so slightly as she admitted:

"Yes..."

"Why?"

This question made Narcissa mentally flinch a little. Of course she had expected it, of course two Order members would be bemused to realise who had been the child's saviour, but explaining it...explaining herself to people like them...!

She owed it to them, though. As a mother...

"It...wasn't right." she confessed, finding her tone had softened despite her efforts to sound aloof. "It wasn't...fair..."

At this, Dora felt a humourless chuckle rise in her throat as she echoed:

"Fair? It wasn't fair?" she laughed, sounding bordering on offended. "What...what in Merlin's name would a...a woman like you know about...about being fair...?!"

"What does it matter to you why I did it?!" Narcissa snapped defensively, feeling colour rising upon her pale cheeks. "I snatched him away from certain death, that ought be...be enough for you..."

"Why would that be enough?" Dora said, voice growing low, grip upon her wand tightening. "You left him with...with strangers! They could've been anyone!"

"Anyone was better than my sister, surely! With...with the Dark Lord on his way...!"

"But you never told us! You've kept your mouth shut! For all these years!"

At this, it was Narcissa's turn to laugh and she scowled at the witch stood before her as she asked:

"And what if I hadn't?! What would you have done if I had come to you after the battle were over and told you your son wasn't dead?! You would never have believed me! How could you? You...people like you! You couldn't believe a single good word about me!"

"Could I not?!" Dora said, voice suddenly quieter, shaking her head in disbelief. "Just because you see people as so black and white, doesn't mean I do." The Auror took a step forward until there were precious few inches between the two of them, making her husband behind her wince.

Narcissa found herself holding her breath.

"Let me tell you," Dora breathed, voice not more than a whisper, dark eyes upon her estranged aunt positively pinning the older witch to the spot, "what a person like _me _could believe about _you_, Narcissa Malfoy."

And at that moment, though she would never admit it to herself, Narcissa Malfoy felt well and truly afraid.

"I could believe," Dora whispered, pausing to wet her lips in deliberation, "that underneath that ice queen facade of yours, you have the capacity to love. You are a loving wife to that disgraceful wretch of a husband of yours. And, most of all, you love your son unconditionally. Because Voldemort expected you to put conditions on your love, didn't he? And you defied him! And I could believe that all those years ago that when you saw my little boy, my helpless little boy taken away from his mother, what you really thought you were looking at was a mirror into your own life. Because Voldemort took your son from you, didn't he? He branded your Draco with the Dark Mark and after that you knew he could be lost to you at any moment! And that's why you took my son! You took him away from Voldemort because you wanted to prove to yourself that it could be done! And I'll tell you, Narcissa Malfoy, the one thing I cannot believe about you. I cannot believe that any mother who really loves her child the way you do could keep silent all these years, knowing that my child has been needlessly separated from his parents! I don't care who you are or who I am and what has passed between us! I don't care that we were on opposing sides in a war or...or that you think I'm the scum of the earth! You know better than to keep your mouth shut! So you tell me! _How could you_?!"

"How could I?" the Death Eater's wife hissed, eyes widening quite madly at the question. "How could I not?!"

She'd watched somewhat numbly as the dark cloaked figures had burst triumphantly into the house, their little captive wailing and bawling at the top of his lungs as Bellatrix had half-danced down the hallway, grip upon the child precarious enough to make Narcissa flinch.

"We've got it!" Bellatrix had shrieked excitedly as she had skidded to a halt and thrust the pink-faced baby under her sister's nose. "Snatched it away from right under their noses! And just in time, Cissy! Just in time for the Dark Lord's arrival!"

As the other Death Eaters had trooped in behind Voldemort's favourite, Bellatrix had reached to shove the child into Narcissa's arms, suggesting: "Do shut it up for us, won't you? Can't stand the creature howling!"

"I don't see why we should wait!" Lucius had confessed as he pulled the hood back from his face. "I don't see why we should...should summon the Dark Lord here...all for the sake of the werewolf's pup...put it out of it's misery, Bellatrix, and...and let's not speak of it again!"

"Don't you want the Dark Lord to see what we've done?" Bellatrix began, spinning around to look at her brother-in-law, nose wrinkling as if she had smelled something rotten. "Don't you want to..."

"I don't want that...that thing in my house!" Lucius insisted as Narcissa adjusted the blankets around the still-crying baby. "We don't need...we don't want reminders, Bellatrix! We don't need to remind people how...how people have sullied our blood! Just...kill the child and be done with it! It's not worth the...the Dark Lord's time..." he'd trailed off when Bellatrix has leapt back across the room towards him, her dark eyes shining in amusement as she had accused:

"You are afraid, Lucius! You are on edge! You hope the Dark Lord does not pay you a visit at all...!"

Narcissa had watched her husband wet his lips carefully before meeting Bellatrix's eye just long enough to tell her:

"That's ridiculous, Bella!"

In Narcissa's arms the stolen child seemed to be giving up on his wailing protest, reaching instead to clasp a tiny hand at the front of the witch's robes and as she had turned around again Bellatrix had laughed and observed:

"Look, Cissy! You're a natural wolf tamer!"

Narcissa had felt herself blushing and as Lucius had made some disgusted retort, causing Bellatrix to leap back into the argument, joined by a few mumbles from the other Death Eaters present, Narcissa had finally dared to look down at the child.

He was beautiful.

Abomination though he was, he was simply perfect.

And the Death Eater's wife had stared down at the infant child of two members of the Order of the Phoenix, the baby of a werewolf and her estranged niece, and felt as if just then her heart might break.

He had pale wisps of silvery blonde hair and he stared up at her with wide eyes as if she were a wonder to him, and his podgy little fists flailed in an attempt to grasp at the necklace around her neck...

"He looked...he reminded me of Draco so much just then..." Narcissa recalled as Dora reached a blind hand backwards, groping thin air until she could find Remus' hand, lacing their fingers tightly together. "And I...I thought of Draco and I thought of...of losing him...and I...I don't know, I just...went...!"

She had found herself edging towards the door, baby clutched tightly to her chest as the Death Eaters squabbled amongst themselves, oblivious to her movements. And once she had slipped out of the door and into the hallway she walked faster, faster...

She felt as if she was on autopilot as she yanked a cloak down from the stand by the door, throwing it clumsily around her shoulders as she glanced nervously back down the hallway...

And before she knew it she was out the door, gravel crunching under her boots as she made for the gates at the end of the long drive.

Narcissa Malfoy ran. She ran and ran, heart pounding furiously against her ribcage at the thought that at any moment he might arrive, at any moment she might be caught...

She had to keep running, had to get away...had to run because her family's life somehow depended on it. Once free of the fortress of protective spells she apparated...somewhere...anywhere...

...and was nearly struck down by a car.

"After that it...it was all a blur, I...I gave him to the muggles in the car and...and I knew I couldn't wait, there was no time to lose! I had to get back before the Dark Lord arrived...had to let Bellatrix realise the child was gone, had to make them all believe he was dead because if he...if he had found out what I had done...!"

She'd carefully let the door swing quietly shut behind her, positively trembling in her treachery, going instantly rigid when Bellatrix's voice from further up the hallway shrieked:

"WHERE IS IT?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

And Narcissa Malfoy had stared at the dark wood of the door before her for a long, considering moment, before turning on her heel, squaring her shoulders and looking her sister in the eyes.

She had stared into the dark, emotionless pools of Bellatrix's eyes and informed her:

"It is done."

"What?!" Bellatrix had spat, reaching to grasp tangled knots of hair in frustration and Narcissa had given herself a little shake and swept down the hall towards her sister, insisting:

"Lucius is right. We don't want a...a song and dance about it, Bella! It's better to kill him now and...and get it over with! The Dark Lord has...has more pressing uses for his time than bothering himself with...with the offspring of mongrels and...and blood traitors! Do you want to remind him what...what our filthy sister has done to our family?! What...what that wretched girl of her has...has gone and done?! Marrying a...a werewolf, for Merlin's sake! We're...we're already a...a laughing stock! Lucius and I won't stand for it, not anymore! It's...it's insulting! You...you should've...should've waited for his parents to return home and...and finished them off whilst you were at it! You'd have done the family a favour!"

And Bellatrix had seemingly quite forgotten her fury then, for she had looked at her sister pityingly as if she thought her terribly naïve, before telling her:

"And where's the suffering in that, Cissy? I wasn't about to take their lives and turn them into a couple of martyrs for the Order of the Phoenix when I could take that pathetic little child of theirs and leave them to suffer instead! It's their own fault he died! They played a game with us and they lost! Let's see them live with themselves with the death of their son hanging over their heads! Let's watch them crumble like the wretches they are! They'll beg the Dark Lord for death before the end!"

"They were all furious with me...even...even my husband was furious, he was afraid to have us seen to be sneaking about...undermining Bellatrix's plans...if the Dark Lord came to hear of it...! But they all believed the boy would be dead. I told them I'd gone out into the woods and...and left him there under a full moon...let his father's kind destroy him! I knew they'd never believe me if I said I'd killed him outright. I thought they might want to fetch him back, thought they'd want to see for themselves but...Bellatrix liked the idea. She changed her mind about handing him over to the Dark Lord. She... she liked to think of him out there amongst the elements...it would be a...a slow death...he'd die of exposure if the werewolves didn't get him first! She so wanted them to get him...the thought made her positively giddy! She couldn't wait to...to come face to face with you two again so she could...could tell you what I had done!" For the first time Narcissa looked past Dora to look at the werewolf stood behind her. "She wanted to look you in the eye and tell you...tell you we'd fed your precious little pup to your own kind! She spent the next half an hour fantasising about the odds that you'd rip him to shreds yourself out there! And...and when the Dark Lord arrived she told him all about it...all about the wonderfully cruel thing I had done! And he swallowed my lies just like the rest of them! And left me living in fear that one day he might realise that I defied him! My nerves were blasted to shreds that night and...and I never felt the same again. But then I knew...I knew I could defy the Dark Lord! Because if I could do it once for the likes of you, I could do it again for my Draco within the blink of an eye!"

"And you did." Remus recalled quietly as Narcissa reached to swipe a pale hand across her eyes at the mere memory, and the blonde haired witch smiled thinly and agreed:

"Yes I did. I saved my son, I kept my family safe from the Dark Lord. And now we are free."

"Free to speak up!" Dora accused, sounding distinctly angry that Narcissa seemed to think the story over with. "Free to tell the truth! Don't say you never thought of it..."

"I did."

"Then you've no excuse! I'm easy enough to contact! You could owl the Ministry at any time..."

Narcissa straightened up, offering the two Order members stood before her a look of deepest resentment.

"How many times," she asked them as Remus reached to pull the furious Dora backwards a step until she was stood at his side, "did the two of you defy the Dark Lord?" Without waiting for an answer Narcissa gave a bitter laugh and observed: "You cannot count, can you?! Your whole lives have been acts of defiance! And that makes you equals, does it not?! Well let me tell you, my husband and I do not share the same sense of equality! Because it was me who dared to stand up and be counted, not him!" Her voice had grown shrill and though she could not quite believe she was spilling such personal information to them of all people she found that once she had started she could not stop.

The werewolf looked quite shocked at her outburst, but beside him his wife seemed distinctly indifferent to her plight as Narcissa asked:

"How should you like to harm your husband's sense of pride and position within your family yet more than ever, when you have already placed yourself so high upon the moral high ground that your relationship is, no matter what you do, damaged beyond repair?!"

And in the bushes Teddy Lupin, still struggling for all he was worth against his captors, jumped to watch his mother yank her hand free from his father's grasp, hair growing crimson as she stepped forward, thrusting her wand forward until it was pointing directly into Narcissa Malfoy's face.

"I'd do it gladly!" the Auror snapped furiously as her aunt went rigid at the movement, staring wide-eyed at the tip of the wand mere inches in front of her, tears springing from her eyes. "Your husband's remaining shreds of self respect aren't worth leaving my son an orphan for, and your marriage isn't worth saving if neither you nor your worm of a husband can't accept your true part in it!"

There was a long pause as the two witches stared at each other, Dora gasping in a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself, only for her vision to blur with tears and her grip upon her wand to do nothing but tighten.

"You...you don't understand...!" Narcissa attempted to reason, daring to lean backwards ever so slightly, only for Dora's hand to jerk forward again, wand tip pressed to the woman's cheek.

"I don't understand?!" she choked through gritted teeth, and Narcissa winced when Remus reached to grasp hold of his wife by the elbow, making her jump.

"Dora," the werewolf said, voice low in warning, "lower your wand..."

"You think I don't understand?!"

"I mean it, Dora, lower it!"

"Tell that pathetic husband of yours to swallow his bloody pride and come and live in the real world!"

"Dora! Now!"

"Because that's what my husband does every month when my salary puts food on our table and pays our bills!"  
"Lower your wand!"

"Does he feel proud that I'm the one keeping us afloat?! I bloody well doubt it! But there's no room for pride in a marriage! And if you think otherwise then your marriage is a bloody sham!"

No sooner had Dora finally flung these final furious words at the trembling woman before her the wand in her hand suddenly yanked itself free from her hand, flying up into the air and as he threw an arm around her middle and hauled her away from the doorway, Remus threw up a hand to catch the flying object, insisting:

"_Enough_!"

And Teddy Lupin watched his mother slump back against his father with a sob as she cried:

"All...all of...all of this...j...just to...just to save something...something that's...that's already broken! You're pathetic!"

At the sound of the commotion there came the sound of a voice calling from further within the house, and Remus instantly reached to half-push his wife somewhat roughly back down the steps, causing her to stumble.

"Mother?!" Draco's voice called, causing Narcissa to jump at the sound, tears by now streaming down her cheeks. "What's going on out there?!"

"Go on!" Remus hissed, grip upon his wife's wand tightening as he gave her another push down the driveway. "Enough, we're...we're leaving!"

"Mother?!" Draco called again and Narcissa watched mutely as Dora stumbled off down the driveway without so much as a backwards glance.

And then, to her surprise, Remus Lupin had turned to regard her intently for a long moment, his brown eyes staring straight into hers. There was a sizeable pause and Narcissa rather wished he would look away.

But then he took a step forward, straightened up a little, and simply told her:

"Thank you."

And within seconds he had taken the stone steps three at a time, grasped his wife by the arm and set off down the driveway at an almost-run, his shoulders hunched and his gaze fixed upon the crunching gravel under his feet.

And Teddy Lupin had known at that moment that this was his chance.

Perhaps his only chance.

His chance to be found by his parents.

And as he watched them retreating back towards the vast iron gates that marked the entrance to the Malfoy's grand estate, the young boy was filled with such desperation that his fight to free himself from his captors increased tenfold.

He kicked, struggled, scratched and fought for all he was worth and as he did he kept his eyes fixed upon his parents as they approached the gate. And Andy's grip upon him was slackening from a blow to the stomach and with one last frenzied struggle Teddy had ripped the hand from his mouth and sprung up through the bushes to his feet, throwing himself out onto the gravel driveway as he gasped in a breath to scream for his parents at the top of his lungs...

"MU..."

_Pop_.

And just like that, within the blink of an eye, Teddy Lupin's parents were gone.

The child stumbled to a halt, staring in panic at the empty driveway as he gasped for breath...

And from where she stood atop the stone steps, tears still streaming down her cheeks, Narcissa Malfoy watched the strange blonde haired child who had just burst from the bushes beside her house promptly burst into fresh tears of his own.


	23. A Summons

_Note: Super short filler chapter! Sorry about the length! :-)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**23: The Summons**

"Merlin," Remus Lupin mumbled as he stepped back into the sitting room, shuffling the envelopes in his hands so that he could look at each one in turn. "Five owls and we were barely out the house an hour..."

From where she sat hunched upon the sofa, staring blankly into the empty fireplace opposite, his wife said nothing.

Remus eyed her warily for a moment before going to sit beside her, sighing heavily.

"They're all from the Ministry." he said, and when Dora failed to so much as glance sideways at him he sighed again and set about breaking the seal on the first envelope. Retrieving the parchment within, the werewolf unfolded the first letter, squinting down at the elaborate script.

There was a long pause as he examined the letter, and at the sound of him fumbling to hastily rip open the next one with an incoherent mutter that sounded distinctly worried, Dora finally consented to looking sideways at him.

"What is it?" she asked as he brow furrowed at the contents of the next letter, scanning the page before reaching for another.

"Oh Dora..."

"What?"

"Oh Merlin..."

"What, Remus?!"

The latest letter he was examining became somewhat crumbled as Remus' grip upon it tightened. He turned slowly in his seat to face his wife, regarding her seriously for a long moment, before slowly reaching to press a palm to her cheek.

"Listen, darling..." he began slowly, reluctantly even, only to wince when she jerked her head away from his touch and demanded:

"Don't you bloody _listen darling_ me!"

"Dora, please..."

"It was...it was bad enough just now without you...without you getting all bloody patronising too!"

"I'm not trying to be patronising..."

"Aren't you?!"

"Of course not!"

"Just like you weren't trying to treat me like some sort of...some sort of child earlier, either!"

"You're being ridiculous, Dora."

"You DISARMED me, Remus! You disarmed me and...and frog marched me home like some sort of...of scolded schoolgirl! I mean...for the love of Merlin! Who the bloody hell DISARMS THEIR OWN WIFE?! In front of a bloody MALFOY!"

"You were being hysterical..."

"You thought I was going to hex her, didn't you?!"

"No..."

"LIAR!"

"I truly didn't think anything of the sort."

"Then why disarm me?!"

"You weren't listening to me..."

"So that's the perfect reason to...to humiliate me in...in front of HER, is it?!"

"You can't honestly care what she thinks..."

"That's not the point!"

"But it's the only point you've made so far..." Remus trailed off rather helplessly as the witch sprung furiously to her feet, rounding on him to demand:

"Give it back!"

"S...sorry?"

"My wand, Remus! Give it back!"

Reaching slowly into his pocket to retrieve the item in question, Remus found himself wondering:

"Are you going to hex me with it?"

In response the wand was jerked free from his hand by an invisible force that made his finger sting sharply, and within the blink of an eye Dora had caught the soaring object, turned and fled out into the hallway. A moment later he heard her footsteps as she stomped up the stairs to take refuge in their bedroom.

He examined the remaining letters grimly for a few minutes before abandoning them all on the coffee table and following his wife upstairs. The bedroom was somewhat dim in comparison to the rest of the house, they had left the curtains drawn firmly across the windows in their haste to leave the house earlier that day.

She felt the mattress shift underneath her as he sunk down onto the bed behind her, and after a few tentative pauses she felt him reach to slide an arm around her waist, his lips coming to brush against her ear.

"Forgive me." he whispered, and she might very well have granted his request instantly if she hadn't been so utterly determined to punish him...

Because she felt an all-consuming desire to punish somebody...anybody...

...and he was there. That was reason enough. It was cruel, it was undeniably wrong, and yet she was so utterly despairing of the world that any excuse to feel anger seemed like something to cling on to.

She tried to jerk away from him, only for his careful arm around her to tighten, pulling her back until she was pressed against him, his face buried in her hair.

"Please." he murmured, and when she continued to struggle he wondered: "Why are you so intent on fighting with me?"

"Why are you so intent on restraining me?" she shot back, and at this accusation he promptly pulled his arm free, flopping back against the duvet, reaching to press his hands to his eyes.

She hadn't meant it quite that literally, she supposed, and she missed his hold upon her as soon as it was gone. But she couldn't tell him, couldn't move, could barely think...

"Perhaps, my darling," the wizard finally managed to utter a long moment later, "I wouldn't be so inclined to do so if you might for once choose to restrain yourself."

"Perhaps we don't all have such a ridiculously tight reign upon our emotions as you do!" she complained, grasping fistfuls of duvet in her frustration. "Perhaps the rest of us are more prone to...to outbursts! Perhaps we can't keep our anger under wraps! Perhaps there comes a...a time when the world's just been...been too cruel and we can't hold it in any longer!"

To her fury, her husband gave a huff of laughter at this suggestion and muttered:

"Then perhaps you've been blind to me for all these years."

A lump instantly lodged itself in her throat, and she very nearly flinched when a moment later she felt his hand upon her shoulder, pulling her carefully down to lie upon her back.

"And that is terribly ironic, I think." he told her as he leaned to gaze thoughtfully down at her, his warm eyes pinning her to the spot. "Because any control I ever had over my emotions was entirely obliterated the moment I met you."

And despite herself she found herself reaching a hand up to tangle in his hair and she struggled not to screw her eyes shut in shame when he leant to brush a kiss to her lips, confessing:

"One single word from you, Nymphadora, one single glance, even! One tear, one frown, one sigh, my darling, and you can ignite such fire in me that I would set the world alight and watch it burn!"

Merlin, she realised rather dumbly, she had no idea how to respond to that. What so say when she'd been so cruel and yet he'd spoken so sweetly like only he could. She'd never met anyone so bold or elaborate with language as him. He could strike her dumb with words at the drop of a hat and she'd be at a loss as to what to say in return...

"Why are you being so good to me?" she whispered a long moment later once he had leant to kiss her again.

"Why would I not be? You are my wife, are you not? I love you, don't I?"

"I've been unspeakable cruel."

He stifled another huff of amusement against her lips, hand reaching to smooth her hair before he admitted:

"Then I love you unconditionally, Dora. I am unconditionally, undeniably and uncontrollably in love with you! You can be as cruel and hurtful to me as you like, you can make my life unbearably miserable, I won't waver in my love for even a second."

She thought she might hate him with a passion just then for making her feel so unbearably wretched, and yet love him with a passion for precisely the same reason. It was a frustrating tangle of feelings and she realised just then that taking her anger out on Remus was an entirely futile endeavour. He would never react in a satisfying manner, he would never grow angry in response, never snap back in retaliation and let the whole furious scenario escalate until she could scream and shout and let the flood of anger out in a rush that might just let her feel human again...

He would only speak of loving her with steadfast conviction, and the most heated response she could coax from him was a series of fierce kisses that left her lungs burning for air and her mind comfortably fuzzy. She found she had little choice but to kiss him back and her fury seemed to be ebbing away into nothing, the world and its cruelties seemed suddenly absent and there was only the two of them and his lips upon hers. By the time he saw fit to release her a long while later, leaving them both breathless, dishevelled and both in need of a fresh set of less crumpled clothes, Dora found she felt oddly...serene...

"She's got it in for us." Remus told her as he shifted underneath the sheets, and Dora only briefly wondered quite how they had managed to curl up underneath them so unconsciously before she asked:  
"Who?"

"Geraldine Flemming."

"Oh..."

"She thinks we could have set all of this up to...to get Teddy away from the investigations. We've both received summons to the Ministry..."

"_Oh_..."

"Harry wrote to try and warn us...even Kingsley's concerned..."

"Merlin..."

"She's been trying to get hold of us all day. Harry says she came bursting into Auror Headquarters looking for you, looked as if she was about to spit fire, and when the Aurors told her you were away on compassionate leave she seemed quite offended by the notion!"

"Stupid cow." Dora muttered, shifting until she could bury her face in the crook of his neck. "I've never liked her..."

"This is serious, Dora." Remus pointed out warily, frowning up towards the ceiling. "If we don't respond within an hour or so she'll probably send somebody round to arrest us..."

"Yeah?" the Auror rolled onto her back so that she too could stare up at the ceiling. "Well if she wants to embarrass herself by trying to interrogate me she's welcome to give it a go! What sort of...of accusations does she think she can just fling around?! She's not got a shred of evidence! Can you imagine what they'll all say about her? If the press pick this up?"

"Do you want the press to pick this up?"

"No...I don't want the hassle of it. But then again...if news gets around...somebody might catch sight of those boys..."

"What would our friends say? What would you mother say?!"

"I don't know, love...but reading it in a newspaper would be no way to find out!" Sighing heavily Dora leant to bury her face in his shoulder again as she complained: "Oh Remus, what are we going to do?!"

"We'll have to go to the Ministry..."

"That's a waste of my time! Why should I sit in...in some room listening to that woman's ridiculous theories when I could be...be out looking for our son?!"

And at that moment there came the sound of a heavy fist pounding upon the front door downstairs, and as he allowed his eyes to drift closed for a despairing moment, Remus found himself wondering:

"Yes, my darling, but what other choice do you suppose we have?'


End file.
